The New Ways of Old Gods
by Valkyrie Shepherd
Summary: This is a continuation of the story after the Epilogue of DA:I. Astlyr is the hero of the day, but now doesn't know what to do with herself. Cole appears in her room and claims to have found someone in danger who desperately need her help, and she can't help but check it out. A new spirit is found, a new mystery arises.
1. Chapter 1

*****NOTE  
><strong>This story is my attempt to continue the story, going off of the hunch that I had the first time I finished the game. There will be SPOILERS for the end of DA:I. I work with one of the popular theories about what happened with Solas and Mythal and the Dread Wolf thing. The side I chose might be the less popular of the two theories, but it was my first instinct, so I am going with it. Hopefully this will tide us over until we get our DLC or a new game :)  
>Enjoy, gentle readers.<p>

Chapter 1 edited 12/18/14***

**The New Ways of Old Gods**

**Part 1: Spirit**

"The failure was mine. I should pay the price...but the people...they need me. I am so sorry."

"I am sorry as well, old friend."

She clawed her way into his flesh like smoke into a dying man's lungs. She ripped him free like an old rag and tossed him aside. He felt himself failing. Bits of him being eaten away by her superior power. This was what he deserved. This was all that waited. The people needed him, but they needed her more. He awaited nothingness as she burned him away to take his place.

Blackness was all he knew for a time, before he was able to open his eyes. Not dead. Not burned away. If he had been thinking. If he had not been filled with panic as he looked on the visage of his god with failure in his eyes, he might have guessed he would survive. But what was he now? What remained when everything else was stripped away?

Astlyr leaned back in her chair. She was supposed to be working, but paperwork was never her strength no matter how much Josie prodded and cajoled. Especially now, with Coryphius defeated and the Inquisition helping to rebuild. There seemed to be little for a warrior to do. When your resume mostly consisted of different methods of separating a man from his organs, it felt like there wasn't much to do now that there was no one to disembowel.

Her eyes kept wandering to the window and the sky beyond. So temptingly blue. Out there somewhere dragons were flying unmolested and unslain by her. She felt her hand twitch, remembering the icy prickling of the mark on her hand. Now no green tear scarred the sky, and her mark had not done anything but look like a bad tattoo since her day of victory against Coryphious. Usually she kept the hand gloved in public to avoid people from grabbing her arm and insisting on seeing it.

"Astlyr!"

"Fuck!" she dropped quill she had been holding. She spun around to face the young man who had appeared in her room. "Cole! What have I told you about doing that? I could have been naked or something."

"Have to come," he ignored her words, reaching out both hands to her like a child trying to lead a caregiver. "He's lost, and hurting, and he won't let me help him! He just kept asking for you. I have to bring you."

"Whoa, whoa," Astlyr stood, making gentling motions with her hands. The spirit was more agitated than she had seen him in a long time. "What's wrong, Cole? Slow down."

"I found him beside the wall. He fell and he wants you! Please come!" he reached for her again, lacing slender fingers through hers with urgency.

"Alright, alright," she said, knowing that whatever he was talking about she had better go with him. The situation was obviously serious.

There was a whoosh and her hands felt icy as a cold wind blew in her face and the spirit boy vanished. "Cole!" Astlyr shouted to the air, "I can't just teleport places. We've been over this!"

Cole reappeared, tilting his chin up so she could see his sad eyes under the brim of his hat. "I am sorry. Come, I will show you!" he grasped her hand again and led her.

She felt rather foolish as she was dragged through Skyhold's main hall. Varric raised an eyebrow as they passed. He was sitting at his desk, obviously working on his latest novel. Perhaps even the tale of how they had repaired a tattered sky and saved the world. She gave him a rueful smile and an expressive shrug as she was led on.

They went down past the markets, which were thriving more than ever as people came, eager to see Skyhold and to buy souvenirs. It seemed that the fortress was now the favorite tourist location in Thedas. Cole led on. His hands were chilly and they did not warm as she held them. His skin seemed to repel warmth, yet she smiled slightly at his determined stride. She was fond of the odd young man. Young spirit? Whichever.

"Here. He's here!" Cole dropped to his knees beside the wall at the end of the stables. Astlyr leaned over to see. Nestled in a tuft of grass against the stone was a small, brown bird of prey. It was bedraggled with many feathers out of place. It was scrawny, and only one dark eye watched her, the other reduced to a glassy grey.

"A bird?" Astlyr asked. "Cole...couldn't you have brought it to the healer?" She looked the creature over and she was doubtful that a healer would have helped. It was obvious this creature had one talon in the grave.

"Not a bird," Cole's voice was anguished. He reached out and touched the little falcon with his fingertips and his body stiffened. Astlyr knew this well. Cole could read other people's pain, and could express it to those around him. The healer sometimes used him to diagnose unconscious wounded, though he was also adept at sensing emotional pain. She waited to see what he would say. "She comes to me with hands like knives, and I am sorry, I am sorry, I am so...I was wrong! I made a mistake! Yes. I deserve this. Take my life away...then she reaches inside me, steals me, empties me!" Cole gasped, staggering back.

"Cole!" Astlyr caught his shoulders. She had never seen this reaction from him.

He whimpered, "This isn't right. He isn't right! He's lost. Doesn't belong. Wants you. Won't let me help. Burning, biting, barren loss," he slumped against her grip and she held him more firmly.

"Easy, Cole. What do you mean? Is this creature a spirit? How does it know me?"

Cole seemed dazed, so she made him sit in the grass and then approached the bird herself. For a moment it was so still she thought it had died. Then it twitched and looked at her with its one good eye. "Hello," she spoke softly, kneeling down beside it "are you a spirit? Did I meet you in the fade? Is that why you're asking for me? How can I help you, little friend?" Cole made another whimpering sound and began rocking forward and back. "You're worrying my friend over there," she said, still using a kind tone, "Could I pick you up and take you somewhere safer?"

The bird blinked at her so she took that as a 'yes' and slid her fingers under it. She expected to feel its little heart beating against her hands, but didn't. Definitely a spirit, she decided. "Come on now, little friend. It'll be alright," she soothed, gently smoothing a bent feather with her finger. Green light appeared on her hand and a familiar prickling, stinging began. Holding the bird in one hand she turned the other over to see her mark was faintly aglow. She took in a sharp breath, "you _must_ be a spirit. The mark is reacting to you."

The bird seemed to summon its strength and nipped her palm where it shone with green light. "Hey," she scolded, though gently, "that's not a very nice way to say thank you. Cole, are you alright? Can you come with me back to the hold?"

The boy stood up, though he still managed to look more pathetic than usual. He hugged himself as he followed her back to the keep proper. People stared at the odd threesome. Someone pointed "it's the Inquisitor!"

"Maker's balls," grumbled Astlyr, rolling her eyes and walking faster. "The Inquisitor is busy right now," she shouted over her shoulder as she made for the stairs at a walk so brisk a dwarf might have to sprint to keep up.

"New pet?"

Damn Varric and his sharp eyes, she smiled to herself as she entered the keep and was greeted by her friend. "Not exactly," she said, slowing her pace to allow him to catch up. Cole blinked into existence a little ahead of them, watching the bird with intense concern. "I'm pretty sure it is a spirit. Cole found it and he says it's not a bird. Then when I picked it up my hand starting glowing again."

"Sounds like a spirit alright," agreed Varric, keeping stride with her. He obviously intended to find out more as well.

In Astlyr's room she dumped out a basket of papers and made a nest inside it from blankets and pillows. Then she set the little creature in it. It looked up at the three with its one eye and clacked its beak a few times. "Alright," Astlyr leaned back, folding her arms. "Now what?"

"Should I get a mage? The healer?" Varric asked, scrutinizing the bird.

"Maybe," Astlyr said. "Who is still in Skyhold?"

"Dorian," the dwarf replied, rubbing his chin with a gloved hand.

"Let me try again," said Cole in a quiet voice. "I want to see..."

"Are you sure?" Astlyr turned to the young man whose face was turned down, obscured by his hat. "The last time he did his pain sharing thing with this bird it wasn't like it normally is," Astlyr explained to Varric, who had raised an eyebrow. "It seemed like it wore Cole out to do it."

"I want to try again," the spirit boy said, firmly.

"Go easy, kid," Varric said, stepping aside to allow Cole access to their new charge.

The bird seemed to sit up slightly, as though it knew what Cole was going to try to do.

The boy rested his fingers delicately on the bird's folded and bedraggled wings. Astlyr wondered at this. Normally Cole did not need to touch someone to feel their pain or sorrow.

Cole's head snapped back, his eyes wide and Astlyr had to struggle to keep herself from rushing instantly to his side to pull his hands away. "I have done something very wrong! I have displeased her, I have endangered everything! I cannot go back, I cannot make it well again. I will let her take what was mine and push me away into nothing. Then I will fade, as before. I cannot go where I am not welcome...but the dead are always willing. Have to try. Have to find her! The one from before, with hand of green and eyes of friendship...the wind bites me and I am buffeted, but I will find her. Lead her back to the place of my shame! I am so alone. So-" Cole jerked his hands away and moaned, holding his head. "It's too much for me!" he said, his voice tight. "He's more than what he seems. I c- I can't."

"Take it easy, kid," Varric strode forward and placed a hand on Cole's back. "It's alright. You did a good job."

"I know what it wants," the boy muttered, sitting down on Astlyr's bed. He tucked up his legs to sit cross legged.

Astlyr sat down beside him, resisting the urge to put her arm around his thin shoulders. She knew this would make him uncomfortable, and make her own pains easier for him to sense. She didn't want to distract him. This whole situation needed to be sorted. Even she could feel the sense of something too large to be the spirit of a bird. "What does it want, Cole?"

"It wants...it wants not to be a bird." the boy looked up at her with his desperately sad eyes. The kind that made you want to hug him, if you didn't know that he usually looked like that.

"Fair enough," Astlyr said, looked down at the little creature in the basket. "It's a spirit right? So it can inhabit something else."

"Needs to be willing," muttered Cole.

"It said the dead were always willing. Is this a dead bird?" Varric gestured to the pathetic animal.

"Possibly," Astlyr nodded. "But how did this spirit come to our world? It did something wrong and angered someone...someone female by the sound of it. Do spirits have mothers? Ugh. I wish Solas was here. We have no idea what we're talking about with all this spirit nonsense."

The bird seemed to agree, clacking its beak expressively.

"So it wants a new body. Maybe one that isn't a dead animal," Varric folded his arms. "Anything else?"

Cole had a look of concentration on his face. "I could see pictures this time. I don't always see pictures. I saw...a woman. She was angry, but I think she was sad too."

"Probably the woman he was talking about. The one who took something of his." Astlyr sighed. "Maybe we should get Dorian. This is all too confusing for me." The bird made a soft peeping sound. "Was that a yes or a no?" she asked it.

"I'll get him," Cole puffed out of sight with a small tuft of greyish smoke.

"Cole, don't startle him," Astlyr called uselessly to the air, "we've talked about this!"

While they waited Varric and Astlyr scrutinized their new feathered friend, who gave as good as he got with his one remaining eye. Finally Astlyr felt unsettled and had to look away. "The strangest things happen to me, don't they?" she asked, glancing down at her hand where the green mark was once again dormant.

"They do seem to," Varric agreed, folding his arms.

"Alright, what in the Maker's name is the lad on about?" Dorian sounded annoyed as he strode into the room. He took in Astlyr, Varric, and their unusual guest as Cole reappeared looking satisfied. "So he wasn't just rambling nonsense," the mage raised an eyebrow, "You really do have a bird-thing in here. I hope it doesn't give you fleas."

"It's a spirit that has inhabited a bird," Astlyr explained. "A dead bird by the look of it. We were hoping that as a mage, you might have come insight. Cole did his...pain sharing whatever he does with it, and it seems to have been very determined to find me specifically."

"The strangest things happen to you, don't they?" Dorian said as he knelt beside the bird in the basket. He stroked its head with a finger and the creature closed its eyes with apparent enjoyment. Astlyr and Varric shot one another a quick smile. Dorian waved his hand in the air over the bird and even someone as far removed from magic as the qunari could feel it prickle her skin. Dorian squinted as white light coiled around his fingers, then purple mixed in. The bird sat quite still, its only movement the occasional slow blink.

Finally the mage sat back on his heels. "Well?" Astlyr asked.

"It is my professional opinion as a necromancer that this bird is indeed deceased. Was there anything else you wanted me for?"

"So you couldn't get anything from it?" Varric asked, eyebrow raised.

"I may be a mage, but I am far from an expert of spirits and the fade," Dorian admitted, rubbing his hand on the beck of his neck and standing up. He kicked the kinks out of his legs from crouching. "You're sure this little spirit is anything special?"

"Special? Yes." Cole spoke. He was sitting on the window sill, one leg tucked up under him.

"So what the hell do we do with it now?" Varric wondered. "It said it wanted to find you, and it found you. What next?"

"Cole mentioned something about it wanting to go back to the place of its shame," Astlyr said, uncertain.

The bird clacked its beak at her and blinked.

"So we do what? Take the pidgeon to the big map in the war room and let it point out where it wants to go?" Varric questioned in a sarcastic tone.

"Actually, that might not be a bad idea," Astlyr said. "If we brought you to a map, would that help you?" she leaned over the small creature. It looked blankly back. She pursed her lips and scratched her brow below a horn.

"Worth a try," Dorian shrugged. "I'm curious now too."

"Alright then," Astlyr picked up the basket and set it on her hip, "the adventure continues."

The odd procession following the qunari with a bird made their way across to the war room. Luckily, Josie was not at her desk, Astlyr thought as they passed. She wasn't eager to explained her expedition to more people. Her relief was short lived as Dorian opened the war room door for her and Cullen was inside. He looked up as the group entered, confusion and surprise mingling on his face. Even more so when Cole joined them by once again simply appearing in the room.

"Varric," Astlyr said, impatiently as she set the basket down and gently lifted the animal from it.

Taking his cue the dwarf explained the situation to the baffled commander as Astlyr set the bedraggled falcon onto the map, which was still spread over the great, oaken table. "If I wasn't seeing this right in front of my eyes I would assume it was one of your tales, Varric," the man said, watching the goings on with interest.

Under the scrutiny of the odd assemblage the bird sat quite still for a moment. Then it gave a pathetic flap of a wing, and it began move about. The motion could best be described as flopping. It failed, paused and seemed to look around at the map, head tilted so its good eye could see. It knocked over several little icons on the map, which made Cullen wince, but he said nothing. Finally, after a good deal of flopping, the bird lay still, one wing twisted at on odd angle, but it had plunged its beak into a point on the map.

The group leaned in as one and Cullen almost put his eye out on one of Astlyr's horns in the process. "Isn't that...?" Varric squinted.

"It is," Astlyr answered, gently scooping the falcon into a more comfortable position. "It's the Temple of Sacred Ashes...or what's left of it. To be honest I was hoping I had seen the last of that place."

"You're not alone there," Varric grumbled.

"This little spirit was at the Temple?" Dorian raised an eyebrow.

"It's possible. The Fade was torn open after all," Astlyr said, scrutinizing the map.

Abruptly Cole began weeping. He curled into a ball, holding his knees as he sobbed. Astlyr gasped and they all rushed to the boy's side. She didn't stop herself this time, but wrapped him in her strong arms. He nestled against her shoulder, wetting it with tears that were startlingly cold as they soaked through her tunic. His hat tumbled off. "Maker's breath, what's wrong?" Cullen asked in a soft voice, squatting beside Astlyr with concern written on his face.

"I have no idea," Astlyr said as Cole's fingers grasped her sleeve and pulled tightly. She was a little worried he was going to rip her favorite tunic.

The boy mumbled something unintelligible into Astlyr's shoulder. She tried to pry him away from herself as carefully as possible, but he clung like a limpet. She was completely baffled, and beginning to feel uncomfortable. While her first instinct was always to reach out, she had never been good with people's strong emotions, and Cole seemed to be all emotion. Between the boy's wracking sobs she could hear the bird making peeping sounds from the table. On a hunch she gathered Cole into her arms and lifted him easily. He weighed less than she might have expected from someone who appeared human, and she was strong. She carried him out of the room.

She had to take him all the way to the main hall before he would stop. This he did rather abruptly and let got of her shirt. She set him down hurriedly. He wiped his eyes and sniffed. Asltyr tried not to think about the large patch of mingled snot and tears on her chest.

Dorian, who had followed them, passed the boy a handkerchief, "Here you are young fellow. Now...will someone please tell me what that was all about?"

Cole examined the handkerchief, "father says I can have this. I've just fallen and my nose is bleeding, so he holds this to my face. Then he says I can keep it, but he tousles my hair and walks away and I don't want the handkerchief, I want more comfort from him."

"Alright, I'll have that back now," Dorian plucked the cloth from the spirit boy's hands, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

"Was it the bird that made you cry, Cole?" Astlyr asked, bending down to look in his eyes, aware that some of the people in the hall were watching them, a little expectantly.

"Yes," Cole sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "He was so sad. He did something very bad and now something even worse is going to happen and he is worried...frightened for his people."

"What the hell does that even mean?" Varric walked up behind them, eying Cole.

"You've felt sadness before," Astlyr pointed out. "You've felt people dying, but I have never seen you cry. Not once."

Cole hugged himself, "his sadness is different. Its so big. Like it fills up the whole room. Fills up the whole world."

"So we might be dealing with something a little more intimidating than a small spirit," Dorian folded his arms. "Wonderful."

"He's pointing to something else!" Cullen called from the war room.

The group turned to go back inside, Astlyr glanced at Cole, "maybe you should stay out here," she suggested. He nodded, looking glum, which she had to remind herself was normal for him.

Back in the war room the bird had flopped over to another point on the map. "The temple of Mythal?" Astlyr squinted at the point where the bird had plunged its little beak.

"So where do we go? The temple of Mythal or Sacred Ashes?" asked Varric.

"_We_ go?" Astlyr raised an eyebrow.

"There is no way we're not going with you after all this," Dorian was wearing a coy smirk.

A tapping sound caught all of their attention. The bird was striking its hooked beak again and again in the spot which indicated the Temple of Mythal. Astlyr folded her arms. "Seems we are going there first." It was a struggle to say that with seriousness. She was about to go on a quest to an elven temple at the instruction of a dead bird.

"Well, we won't be going tonight," Cullen glanced at the tall window. The sun was well on its way to setting behind the mountains.

Astlyr scooped up the bird and set it back in its basket. "I'll put this little fellow in my room for the night."

Later she and her friends gathered for dinner (sans Cole, who didn't eat) in the Skyhold tavern. Iron Bull joined them with his crew, as well as Cassandra, but Astlyer and her group didn't mention the bird situation. There was a silent agreement between them that until they figured out what was going on they would keep it to themselves.

Sera appeared with some cookies for them all to try. They were terrible, but Astlyr managed three, counting on her superior Qunari constitution. A quick game of Wicked Grace was played, which Astlyr almost won before Varric skillfully swept the victory away from her. She was feeling pretty good as she made her way up to her room.

The bird was still in its basket, its eyes shining in the waning light of the fire she had set it in front of. She knelt to prod the fire back into life and glanced at the small creature. "You make Cole cry," she said, her dark brows coming together. "You're more than what you seem to be, but I can't figure out what. I feel like I should remember you. Maybe from one of my Fade walks." The bird made a soft peep and picked at its blankets with its beak. "Why did you leave the Fade? Why inhabit a dead bird? Do you want to go back to the Fade? I can help you get back." she held out her marked hand, palm up. The bird butted his head against her fingers. She gave it a little scratch on its forehead, which it seemed to enjoy. "Ah well. I suppose we'll find out in the morning." she sighed. She was about to change into her night attire, then turned and put a thin blanket over the bird so he wouldn't watch, almost laughing at herself as she did so.

After changing she built up the fire one last time. The weather was starting to turn here in the mountains. Winter was heading steadily their way. She tugged the blanket off of her new friend, who seemed to awkwardly snuggle into its new nest.

Astlyr crawled into bed and fell asleep easily.

_She was dreaming, and she knew she was dreaming. This was new. The world around her was green, but not with plant life. Instead it was the unnatural, sickly, emerald light of The Fade. She gritted her teeth. She had come to hate The Fade, even though she knew her body was safely tucked away in her bed this time. Distantly she heard a roar, and she had fought enough dragons to know what it was. It seemed to be at a safe distance, but she knew how The Fade worked. She moved to seek cover behind a floating boulder. Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She spun, her hand straying to where a sword should have been. Instead she realized she was wearing garb she had never seen before. She_ _didn't have time to ponder the wardrobe change as a dark creature slunk from the shadow of a hill shaped like a face._

_It was a wolf. Black as jet, with blue eyes like twin jewels set in an angular face. It was a smallish wolf, she noticed, and he was alone, or at least he seemed to be. He also looked underfed. He lifted his head, ears pricked, watching her with an intensity she wasn't sure she liked. Somewhere the dragon roared again and the wolf looked and sniffed the air. Seemingly satisfied he fixed his gaze back on her. "So what now?" she asked._

_The wolf padded towards her, bright eyes shining. She was torn between approaching him and moving to a more defensible position. She even admitted to herself that she felt a little bit like petting him. He looked surprisingly soft. Finally she decided, and took a knee, reaching out towards him. Here in The Fade the anchor on her hand glowed. The wolf reached his tapered nose forward and touched her fingertips._

Astlyr woke with a start, sitting bolt upright. Her hand was throbbing and shining with green light. The pain and brightness faded almost at once, and as she blinked in the semi-dark she suddenly uncertain that she had felt it at all. Then she saw a glowing orb across the room and she jumped before she realized that it was the single eye of the bird staring at her. She shuddered under its intense gaze, "Stop that. It's creepy."

The bird didn't stop staring. Astlyr groaned, rolled out of bed, and put the blanket back over the top of the unnerving creature. Then she toppled back onto her mattress and fell asleep, though she no longer dreamed.

****NOTE

If this tale intrigues you, let me know. It will encourage me to continue! if I have horribly mangled any of the lore, etc, please feel free to let me know too. Thanks for reading  
>(I will likely update about once a week, possibly every other depending on the business level of my life)<br>New chapter coming: 12/18/14***


	2. Chapter 2

***NOTE

Note that chapter 1 was edited today as well. Some things have changed, the most important being that the first place the bird pointed out (the place of his shame) has changed from the battleground to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Other edits are mostly cosmetic grammar and spelling corrections.

My husband is now on board and helping me with this little gem, and we are both very excited about working on it. We hope you all enjoy.

**Part 2**

**The Wolf in the Temple**

Astlyr tightened the cinch on the saddle of her favorite mount. A dappled grey, thick legged gelding named Smoke. He turned his massive head towards her for a pat. She looked across the horse's back to see where her friends were preparing their own mounts. Dorian's a handsome bay with an elegant neck. Cullen's charger was palomino, and its glistening coat matched the knight's gold colored hair. Astlyr stifled a smile. She couldn't see the short horse Varric rode. The beast was not small enough to be a pony, but compared to the others it was tiny.

The stable master was also saddling a dun colored pack horse. This was Cole's preferred mount, though he only rode when he felt like it. Usually he just popped into existence when they had reached their destination. Astlyr usually tied the horse's reins to her own saddle so it would keep up with the group.

"Are we ready?" She asked. She titled her head to peer out of the stable at the sun, which barely shone above the wall of the keep. She had woken her companions early to begin their strange adventure. The ride to the temple would be a long one, but she was also not eager to attracted attention to herself. She had even sworn the stable master to secrecy. He simply shook his head and smiled. He knew better than to question her after all the places she had been, not the least of which had been into the Fade itself. Twice.

"We're ready," Varric opened the stall door and led his mount out into the cool dawn. Frost was clinging to the grass, but his horse still made a grab for it with an eager chomp.

Astlyr checked the satchel she had hanging at her side. It had once contained maps, and any herbs she collected in her travels, but now it was full of ruffled feathers and two mismatched eyes. The little falcon peeped, as if in greeting She shook her head and led Smoke out of the stable.

Once they were all in the saddle (Varric needed the aid of a mounting block) the group set out. Their breath clouded before them in little puffs and Dorian muttered something about being glad he brought his warmest cloak. Cole appeared briefly on his horse, who was a docile beast that didn't flinch at the sudden weight. "You alright to come today?" Astlyr asked him as she nudged Smoke to a trot.

"I am," the spirit boy answered, watching the bird intensely where it peeked out of the satchel.

"Alright," she said. It was true, Cole had seemed much calmer that day. Well, calm for him.

The boy vanished again and the ride began in earnest.

By the time they reached the temple dusk was threatening again. Astlyr shifted. She would never admit that her ass was thoroughly sore after a day in the saddle. They had only broken their journey briefly to have lunch beside a rather picturesque river, before moving on again. Astlyr was pleased that they encountered no bandits, nor any sign of a stray red templar or two. Instead they spied homes being repaired and people preparing their fields for winter. She recognized her own inquisition soldiers, now with no one to battle, aiding in the efforts.

Astlyr tilted her head back, eying the temple before her. It was a wild looking place and extremely overgrown. Statues of a winged woman, which she could now identify as Mythal, the all mother and goddess of the elves, stood sentinel. Their eyes seemed to watch her, Astlyr thought, as she slid from the saddle and patted Smoke's thick neck.

She slipped off the horse's bridle and saddle not know how long they would be inside the temple. Her friends did the same with their own mounts. "What do you suppose the bird wants in there?" Varric asked as his newly freed horse charged eagerly to the nearest shrub to devour it.

"I don't know," Astlyr chewed a corner of her lip. She had met Mythal, or at least someone claiming to be the old god, once before, and not nearly long enough ago for her liking. "The Eluvian here is broken, at least according to Morrigan. The well of sorrows is empty of all its knowledge. I'm not sure what the bird wants. Perhaps it is an elvish spirit and this is where it feels at home."

"Could it be a demon?" Dorian asked, pulling his staff from its place on his back. "I know we're all thinking it. It could be leading us to some elaborate trap."

"It is not a demon," Cole appeared beside him and Dorian jumped, then rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Well, as long as you're sure," Cullen muttered, staring uncertainly at the temple. "Was this place always so...unsettling?"

Astlyr shook a cloudy feeling from her mind. The time she had visited the temple before she had sensed something, but it had not felt dangerous. Powers moving in the trees. But it was warm, perhaps even welcoming. Had it been because she had Solas, an elf, with her? Now she was without one, and this elven place did not like the look of her and her companions. "Just...be on your guard," she said, sliding her shield into her arm. When she did so the bird in its satchel was completely concealed from sight.

They entered cautiously, eying the altar which stood before them. Astlyr wondered if she should redo the rituals she had used that day to enter the temple as a friend. As she approached the tiles before her glowed bright golden and blue. It seemed to remember her. She gestured her followers on. Occasionally she glanced at the bird to see if it was having any reaction, but it sat docilely in the bag. She began wondering if it had been a fluke that he had pointed this place out. Perhaps he had just been unable to reach the part of the map he had intended to show her. Perhaps they should have gone to the Temple of Sacred Ashes first. Maybe the bird was just crazy...or she was.

They walked on, past the gigantic hole in the ground that Corypheus' men had used to reach The Well. She had not been able to follow so easily. She had felt compelled to preform the temple's rituals. To be welcomed into that place rather than smashing her way in. As Tal-Vashoth she had grown up away from the Qun, and her mother and father did not believe in The Maker either. She had never much pondered what she believed in, but she could admit to herself that the lore of the elvish gods were what intrigued her the most. They were so ancient, yet still seemed to have some pull in the world. She had seen little sign of The Maker or his supposed bride, even if Astlyr herself was supposed to have been linked to them.

Suddenly the bird rustled in the satchel. Astlyr lifted her shield arm and looked down. It was staring intently out at something. She followed its gaze. The statue of the wolf. The only one she had seen in the temple. Solas had explained that the Dread Wolf was not usually found in Mythal's temples. That the creature was believed responsible for the old gods' disappearance. As they drew nearer Astlyr noticed that this statue had been recently cleaned. Cleared of moss and vines, which grappled with every other edifice in the place. "Someone has been here," she muttered. "Cole, do you sense anyone?"

Cole seemed distracted. "Many bad things have happened here... I leave my child beside the alter. I cannot care for her. I pray that the goddess will shine her light over her." he tilted his head another way, hat flopping, "I pray to the goddess for life. This illness has hollowed me out and left nothing but pain and emptiness. My wife will no longer sleep with me." He stepped to the right, as though trying to hone in on something. "My sister and I come every day. The sky is closed and we pray, but no one answers. We have prepared for this all our lives, why does he not come? What have we done to displease him?"

The bird fluttered in the satchel, straining towards the statue. Astlyr slid her hands in and lifted the creature free from the bag. It bit her hand and clamored. Fortunately she was wearing gloves or she might have dropped the fragile beast. "Alright, alright!" she said, setting it down in a clump of weeds at the foot of the wolf statue. "Is that what you want?"

The bird gave a satisfied peep and settled down, as if to rest, though what a dead bird needed with rest she couldn't say. She and her friends did a quick sweep of the area looking for danger. Cole picked up several more painful memories, but nothing which sounded like it pertained to the situation at hand. All Astlyr saw in the fading dusk light were beautiful statues and some very healthy looking plant life. A nug scampered by and Varric shot it deftly. "Dinner," he explained, pulling the crossbow bolt free of the pink flesh. "It looks like birdy is settling in for the night, so I assume we are as well."

"I suppose we are. We carried the thing all the way here, so we might as well stay and figure out what it wants." Astlyr sighed, walking back to the stone wolf. She examined the creature's face, but the years had smoothed away most of the details. Still, the eyes seemed to lock on her from time to time, if she should happen to look suddenly up at it. She built a fire under those watchful eyes, and as the stars came out to decorate the sky, which they could see easily through the open roof of the temple, she settled herself down.

They ate nug roasted over the fire and chatted. Cole moved about occasionally, as he did not need to eat. As he passed Astlyr he brushed her back with his leg and hesitated, "I don't know who I am. What is the purpose of me? Am I destined to be judged only by a mark on my hand? Because I came to the aid of an old woman instead of turning away? Who am I, truly?"

"Cole, sweetie," she touched his arm to snap him out of it, "I told you not to do that to us so much."

Cole dipped his head, "I'm sorry. I am getting better. I do not pluck your sadness from the air, but sometimes when I touch you it is harder..."

"It's alright," she smiled at him, "just keep working on it."

He nodded, and didn't look quite so forlorn, which Astlyr was coming to know as the closest he would get to a happy expression. Cullen turned to Varric, "so you know any stories about old wolfie here?" he gestured to the statue which almost seemed to be watching over them.

"I think I heard one once," the dwarf cleared his throat. "The wolf god is called Fen'Heral by the elvish people and they believe he is a trickster and never one to cross. One day a village was being plagued by a monster that came at night to attack them. They called on Fen'Heral to slay the beast. So fen'Heral came and he fired an arrow straight up into the air with his great bow. Then he turned and began to leave. The people called after him..." here Varric did comical villager voices, "But you will not stay and protect us as we asked?!" Then he did a booming voice for the wolf, "that is not what you asked." the dwarf cleared his throat, smiling at the eager listeners. Even Cole had plopped down beside Astlyr, legs folded and eye sparkling. Varric continued, "so that night the beast did come, and it slaughtered all the remaining hunters. Then the beast murdered all the mothers, fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers in the village. Finally it turned to the children, who were huddled all together, and it opened its mouth to gobble them up..." he paused for dramatic effect, hands poised before the fire to cast monster shadows on the wall. "When the Fen'Heral's arrow came down and straight into the beast's open mouth, killing it on the spot! The children wept for their slain families, but they lived on. The people say that when you call upon the wolf he will always do as he promises, but he will seldom do as you expect." Varric finished with solemnity.

"Maybe we shouldn't be camping just here," Dorian said tensely, glancing up at the looming statue. In the firelight the beast did look a little hungry, Astlyr thought with a shudder. But the bird seemed more content than she had yet seen it. It nestled in the tuft of grass, looking restful.

"Perhaps not," she admitted, "but we're here now, so we might as well see it through. Besides, we've defeated demons, dragons and just about anything else that thought it was a good idea to go up against us. I think we can handle whatever this wolf throws our way."

"We've never fought a dog before," Cole mused as he walked across a fallen log with perfect balance.

"Thank you, kid," Varris snarked, checking Bianca's bowstrings to be sure they were well waxed.

"So who takes first watch?" asked Cullen, who was setting out everyone's bedrolls.

"I don't sleep," Cole hopped down from the log and strolled back into the firelight.

"Perhaps not," Cullen agreed, pulling his sword of its sheath and laying it beside his bedroll. "but you do tend to wander a bit. Perhaps we should take it in turns to stay up with him."

"I'll go first," said Dorian. "You all get some rest and I'll keep an eye on spooky and spookier," he gestured from the wolf to Cole with a wry smile on his lips.

"I'll take second," Varric volunteered.

Astlyr spoke up next. "So that's me on the dawn shift then," said Cullen, skillfully unbuckling the side of his armor and pulling his breastplate off. Then he shrugged off the chain mail shirt he wore under it.

Astlyr did likewise with her armor. Sleeping in chain mail was unpleasant, even more so if you were sleeping on the ground. Finally she propped up her pillows so she could sleep without driving her horns into the dirt. "Good sleep everyone," she said to her companions.

"Good sleep," They replied, either settling down for slumber, or for watchfulness.

Astlyr spared one more look at the wolf statue and the creature nestled beneath it. The bird was looking at her again, with the same eery intensity as he had the night before. His single eye a light orb as it reflected the firelight. "I really hope we're not camping in an elven temple under a wolf for no reason," she muttered to the bird. It blinked slowly. She sighed and fell asleep.

_She dreamed again, as she had expected to, of the fade. Green, glowing, ominous, and made more-so by the sound of a nearby dragon. This time she was certain she could hear the beating of massive wings in the stillness. She looked for the wolf, but she didn't see him. Then the ground shook violently and Astlyr almost fell over, grabbing a small, twisted tree. As she grasped it it turned to ash in her hand and floated away._

_Then a new sound reached her ears. Voices. Hundreds of voices, all speaking together. She couldn't separate anything they were saying. They chattered, there was singing, even what she thought was weeping. She resisted the urge to clamp her hands over her ears. Finally the voices joined together and all hissed together "Fen'Heral," then their deafening, unintelligible voices surged on._

"_Fen'Heral?" Astlyr tried. "Dread Wolf, are you here?" Up until that moment she had not even been certain she could speak here. Her voice rang out, instead of being drowned by the cacophony of other speakers._

_And there he was, looking as small and scrawny as before, but with the same, very blue eyes. Just as the night before she reached towards him and he placed his nose against her hand._ Then she work up.

It was Varric's shift on watch and she blinked awake to hear the dwarf singing quietly. "Follow the river,

speak to the giver,

gentle the mother,

who calls me home.

Lost in the wild,

I am a child,

finding the mother,

who calls me home." His voice was husky and pleasant.

Astlyr smiled, propping her head up on a hand, her dreams already fading from her memory. "I don't think I've heard that one," she said, keeping her voice quiet. She could make out the shapes of Cullen and Dorian. She had to stifle a giggle when she was the mage. He had practically kicked out of his bed roll and was sleeping in a position that would leave Astlyr with a serious kink in her back the next morning. He looked restful, if disheveled.

"That song's one of mine," Varric admitted. "Not sure how I feel about it yet. Once I put some polish on it I'll sing it for everyone some night."

"I like it," Cole stepped out of the shadows, his pale face shining in the firelight.

"I'm glad you approve," Varric chuckled. "You woke up kind of suddenly, Inquisitor. Bad dreams?"

Astlyr gave Varric a mock-annoyed look, "I told you to stop calling me Inquisitor. I'm Astlyr. I don't know how long I'll be the Inquisitor, but I'll always be Astlyr."

"Maybe I'll just call you 'pointy'" he gestured to her horns.

"Pass," she groaned. "I really don't need more reminders of how different I am from everyone else. As to my dreams," she pulled up her legs and wrapped her arms around them, "I think it had something to do with him," she gestured towards the wolf statue, "but I can't remember what."

"Well, hopefully it wasn't a prophecy then. One of those 'you're destined to save the world...or maybe bring the wolf god a good stew bone.'" Varris grinned as he tucked himself into his bedroll, "As long as you're up, I'm going to turn in."

Astlyr nodded and got comfortable. She scooted herself to sit with her back against the statue. The bird, beside her hip, looked up at her and made a quite peep. She petted its head with her finger and it seemed pleased. Cole walked over and sat on her other side. She stared ahead into the quiet darkness. "Anything happening out here tonight?" Astlyr asked.

"No," Cole said. "I can feel the past moving here. There is so much."

"Its not too overwhelming is it?" She asked.

"No," a quick grin flitted on his wan face, "Skyhold is worse. All that pain is present. Everyone is so loud sometimes. I like to go high up some times. Pain stays near the ground."

"I did not know that."

"How could you?" Cole asked, his voice matter of fact.

"Cole. Do you miss Solas? I know you and he were friends." She tilted her head to see his face.

"Yes," he answered, simply. "I know you miss him too. Astlyr..."

"Yes, Cole?"

"I wanted you to know that I'm glad you helped. When that woman- the divine- when she called for help, you went. That memory was how I first knew I could trust you. You often wonder if it was a mistake. Helping is never a mistake." he prodded the fire with a twig. "I am happy you are my friend, Astlyr."

"I'm happy that I'm your friend too, Cole," she patted his knee, hoping the gesture wouldn't cause him to voice any pain she might be having to the world. This time he said nothing, but he rewarded her with a thin smile.

After her turn on watch Astlyr woke Cullen, reported that she and Cole had seen nothing of note, and fell back asleep. This time she had no dreams.

She was woken in the morning by Cullen's hand squeezing her shoulder. She opened her eyes to see him kneeling beside her, his face tense. "There's someone here," he hissed.

Astlyr blinked in the sunlight that was already making the temple glow golden and green. "Where," she breathed, casually reaching for her shield.

"Right there," Cullen gestured with his head.

Two elves stood, staring open mouthed at the group camped in front of the wolf statue. The two seemed as surprised as Astlyr and her friends. The quanri took in the pair with a practiced eye. A man and a woman, with youthful faces which bore identical tattoos. These red markings seemed to be shaped like fangs coming down over their brows and on their chins, as though they looked out from the mouth of a beast. The young man was gripping a mage's staff and the woman had a bow slung across her slender shoulder. Both had brown hair with a slight curl to it, and even stood at the same height. Astlyr guessed they were related. "Er," she stood up slowly, "hello."

"Are you..." the man spoke, his dark eyes wide as two saucers.

"The Inquisitor, yes," Astlyr sighed, watching out of the corner of her eye as Cullen woke the others. She had to stifle a smile at Dorian's hair, which was all sticking up on one side. He had a line of drool on his cheek. Cole was no where to be seen. _Good thing we look so intimidating_, Astlyr thought wryly, squaring her shoulders and wondering how her own hair was behaving.

"No," the young man pushed right past her and dropped to his knees beside the bird.

"Is that?" the woman spoke, also rushing forward.

Astlyr stood aside, baffled. "Hello," she tried again. "perhaps a little introduction is in order?"

The man did not take his eyes from the bird, and his expression was intense and reverent. Like he couldn't decide whether to cry or shout with joy. The woman turned to face Astlyr, "Are you the escort?"

"Er...sure?"

Cullan and Varric came to stand beside her looking as baffled as she felt. Dorian joined them, his mage's staff in hand. The elven woman scrutinized the group, "I thought there would be at least one elf. This is very strange."

Cole popped into existence beside Astlyr and the elvish woman grabbed for her bow. "Whoa, whoa, easy!" Astlyr said, extending her hands in a soothing gesture.

Cole spoke, extending a thin hand towards the woman."We come here every day. Our clan has shunned us. Our family will no longer see us, but we know. We know,"

"What on earth is this?" the elf woman asked, scrutinizing Cole.

"He's a spirit," Astlyr realized she was fast losing whatever control she had had over the conversation, "his name is Cole. I'm Astlyr and this is Cullen, Varric and Dorian. We didn't mean to disturb your temple. We came here because...well because that bird told us to come," she knew how ridiculous this sounded even as she said it.

The male elf had picked up the bird and was cradling it in his hands as though it was made of a precious and fragile substance. The woman spoke again, "My name is Myfanwy and this is my brother, Daveth. We, like you, are followers of Fen'Heral. We have been preparing for this day all our lives!" she sounded a little breathless.

Astlyr decided now might not be the time to point out that she and her party were not followers of Fen'Heral. She gave Varric and Cole a meaningful look before either of them opened their mouths to say as much. "This day?" she asked instead.

"My brother has spent his entire life preparing to be a vessel for Fen'Heral." Myfanwy said, beaming at her sibling.

"It is the greatest honor any elf could hope for," Daveth spoke for the first time. He as managed to drag his eyes away from the bird, which looked quite pleased with itself as it nestled in the young man's hands.

"Vessel? For a god?" Cullen was eying the bird with distrust. "Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

"I will offer my body for Fen'Heral to use," Daveth said, smiling fit to burst.

"And this bird is..." Dorian couldn't seem to bring himself to say it, so he gestured towards the statue.

"Of course," Myfanwy said, raising an elegant eyebrow. "You didn't know?" her expression had become suspicious.

"We...suspected," Astlyr lied hastily, staring at the little bird. She desperately wanted to ask what an elven god was doing inhabiting a dead falcon, but she decided that once again holding her tongue would be a good idea.

"And your brother here is going to what, again?" Dorian folded his arms.

Myfanwy shot Dorian and annoyed glance, "I just explained. He's spent his life preparing to be a vessel. We both are followers of Fen'Heral. Our own clan disowned us, but we knew that this day would come, and it finally has! We have been bringing offerings and keeping this statue many months."

"Waiting for the chance to fulfil our lives' mission," said Daveth, proudly.

"Do you have anything to do with the ancient elves that I saw here before?" Astlyr asked. "The ones who guarded the Well of Sorrows?"

Myfanwy scowled. "No. They are followers of Mythal and they blame the Dread Wolf for her disappearance. We avoid them."

Daveth gave a dry chuckle, "If they had ever bothered to use the knowledge they guarded they would know that Fen'Heral is innocent."

"And you two are certain of that?" asked Varric before Astlyr could hush him.

"Of course," Daveth was staring at the bird again, and began speaking softly to it. "I am so sorry, my lord, for the indignities you must have suffered in this form. I give you my willing permission to use me as your vessel."

"Wait, wait wait," Varric raised a hand, "what happens to Daveth when this old god thing takes him over?"

Astlyr had been wondering this herself. She was also more than a little concerned that the creature Daveth was going to allow to take over his body, was not in fact what he thought it was. Or worse, it was, and the famed elven god of mischief was going to cause them serious harm.

"If he tries, we will kill that form," Cole spoke so quietly Astlyr almost didn't hear him. He must have been sensing her concerns. She touched his bony wrist in a staying motion, as he was already holding his twin, curved blades.

"What do you mean, 'what will happen'?" Myfanwy asked, folding her arms. "the old god will be flesh once again, until a better, willing body can be found for him. My brother has trained his magics all his life to be worthy of this."

"But what becomes of your brother?" Varric pressed. "Where does Daveth go when a god moves into his body?"

"Daveth will be gone," Myfanwy shrugged as though this was the farthest concern from her mind. "Perhaps elements of him will remain, but Lord Fen'Harel will have full control of the body."

"And you _want_ this?" Varric addressed the male elf with concern written on his weathered features.

"Of course!" Daveth said, emphatically. "This is the greatest honor any of us could ever ask for! My sister has trained to assist the process and soon we will allow our god to walk the earth again!"

"Oh Maker," Cullen exhaled. Astlyr heard the faint squeak of leather as the warrior's grip tightened on the hilt of his greatsword.

"You may stay and watch if you like," said Myfanwy, "as you are the ones who brought him to us."

"I think we had better," Astlyr muttered, pulling her shield onto her arm and drawing her own blade. "Precautions," she said in her firmest voice when the two elves looked at her askance.

"You are a most unexpected escort for Lord Fen'Heral," Myfanwy said, her brows coming together, making the teeth tattooed on her face seem to close like jaws biting down. "But these are very strange times."

"They are at that," Dorian agreed good-naturedly, readying his staff. Purplish magic coiled around the man's free hand.

"Are you ready?" Myfanwy asked Daveth, turning and grasping her sibling's shoulders.

"I have been waiting for this all our lives, sister," he said, smiling at her. "I love you." he kissed her forehead.

"I love you," she graced his cheek with a kiss of her own, then she stepped back. She unslung her bow and used it to draw a circle in the mossy earth around her sibling and the bird he still held. Then she stepped back and gave him a nod.

Daveth lifted the bird so it was face to face with him, "Please, Lord Fen'Heral, take my unworthy form. I am willing. I rejoice to give it."

The bird gave a final peep and went limp as black smoke slithered from its eyes and mouth, coiling out and into the eyes of the elvish man. He stiffened as the smoke coiled around him. More than Astlyr had been expecting from such a small bird. This was definitely going to Varric's book, she mused. Fiction was where it belonged. Still, she stood ready, shield and sword raised. She wished she had had time to get her armor on. If this was a demon, it was likely very powerful.

Purple coils of electricity snaked around the young man's feet, but did not escape the circle his sister had drawn. Finally the smoke seemed to have left the bird completely and the limp creature tumbled from the elf's hands and hit the ground with a sad 'thup'. Daveth stood, still stiff, head back now as if he was taking in the morning sky. His eyes were wide and unblinking, his jaw hanging slack.

All around them the sound of wolves howling erupted. Astlyr and her team spun and turned, trying to find the massive pack that must have them encircled. They saw nothing, though the howling grew loud and powerful. Then it stopped as quickly as it had begun and she turned back to look at the young man. He was standing normally now. His face had changed. The shape of his eyes, and their color were different. Rather than the dark brown he and his sister had shared, they shone with a blue light. His tattoo was gone, leaving clean, pale flesh. His posture was also changed. A slight rounding of the shoulders which Astlyr found suddenly very familiar, even as she could not pull her gaze from those eyes she felt she knew.

When he spoke it was no longer with Daveth's voice. The tone was softer, and had a delicate lilt Astlyr was certain she had heard many times before. The old god looked directly at Astlyr, "My friend." he said, before his eyes rolled back, his knees buckled, and he collapsed into Myfanwy's waiting arms.

***NOTE

Story will update 12/27/14


	3. Chapter 3

****Hope you all had an excellent holiday, whatever you celebrated!****

**Part 3**

**Return to SkyHold**

"What?" The word broke from Astlyr's lips like an breath.

"Astlyr," Cole's voice had an edge to it. Fear? "Why did he sound like-?"

"Shhhh, Cole," she whispered tensely to her spirit friend. She was not certain if he was picking up on her concern, or if he too had recognized the voice.

"He will sleep now, to regain his strength. He is extremely weakened," Myfanwy was explaining as she lowered the person who had once been her brother to the ground with great care. There were tears in her eyes, though Astlyr didn't know if they were of loss or reverence.

"Well, if it is a demon, it is playing a slightly longer game than expected," Dorian said, letting the magic in his hand settle with a motion.

"This is no demon," Myfanwy growled, gently arranging her new charge's head on a tuft of grass. "This is Lord Fern'Heral the Dread Wolf, and you would be wise to show some respect."

"Sorry, sweetie, but we can't start genuflecting to everything that claims to be a god. If we did that, we'd never stop kneeling," Varric cut in.

Astlyr was still staring at the unconscious elf. If he was a demon he was like none she had ever seen. Though she knew they could take over human bodies, and then look like the human they inhabited. This one had slightly changed the body. That was new. After a moment she slid her sword back into its sheath. "We'll take him back to Skyhold."

"What?" Cullen gasped, staring at her with wide eyes.

"We don't know for certain what this thing is, but if it is dangerous, what better way to deal with it than keeping it well guarded?"

"Or bringing it into our home where it can more easily slit our throats?" Varric looked up at her with a look so incredulous his eyebrows seemed ready to mutiny and abandon his brow all together.

"What are you talking about?" asked Myfanwy, eying the group.

"We want to take...Fen'Heral, back with us to our fortress." Astlyr explained.

"We?" Cullen retorted. "_You_ want to bring it back, and I cannot comprehend why. This seems foolhardy, Astlyr, and that is a word I do not normally associate with you."

"Cole," Astlyr said, turning to the young spirit, who was still standing uneasily beside and now slightly behind her. "Can you tell if that thing is a demon?"

"It is not a-" Myfanwy began, but Varric cut her off.

"Yes, we know. To you he's The Dread Wolf," Varric too turned to Cole, "How about it, Kid?"

The boy stepped timidly from behind Astlyr's shoulder. She had never seen him act like this. Whatever he did, no matter how strange, he usually did with confidence. Cole extended a hand towards the still figure on the ground, but he did not touch it. Astlyr could not see his face, but his shoulders tensed. "What is he doing?" Myfanwy asked, staring suspiciously at the young man in the over-large hat.

"I can still feel the sadness," Cole spoke and Astlyr could tell he was not channeling, as he usually did, "but it is locked away in slumber. I cannot easily break through. A veil of smoke hides him. I sense no malice behind the curtain." he stepped back, lowering his hand. He tilted his head to look up at Astlyr with his grey eyes, "I do not think it is a demon."

"Oh, well, if Cole doesn't think so," Varric was still looking very suspicious. "And what about her?" he gestured to Myfanwy.

"Another excellent question," Cullen said, folding his arms.

"I am the guardian," Myfanwy answered, her tone matter-of-fact. "I must accompany Lord Fen'Heral at least until he awakens and can give me further instructions. But he chose you as well. I will defer to your judgment, as long as it is in his best interest."

"And if you deem our decisions not to be in his best interest?" asked Dorian, "just out of academic curiosity?"

Myfanwy wrinkled her nose as though Dorian had briefly been speaking another language. She shook her dark hair back from her angular, elven features, "Then I would have to attempt to kill you. I doubt I would succeed, so I am very hopeful that Lord Fen'Heral chose well in his companions."

"Alright everyone," Astlyr turned to her people, now using the commanding voice which dusted off on rare occasions, "I don't know anything more than you, but I do know something very strange, and possibly not evil has happened here. We have to take the good where we can find it. I would like to take...him" she was uncertain what to call the young man on the ground, "back to Skyhold. I am still the Inquisitor, though these days I am not certain why, and if that title still yields me any power, then I am making a judgment. We will keep him under strict guard, both mage and warrior. Cole will watch over him as well," she suspected she would have a hard time keeping the curious spirit away anyhow. "At the first sign of demon-y behavior we kill, no questions asked. Anyone have any concerns to voice, voice them now."

"No Ma'am," Cullen snapped to smart attention. Varric and Dorian laughed at him, but then Dorian saw Astlyr's look and straightened his own shoulders, dipping his head in ascent to her ruling. Only Varric hesitated. "If you think this is the right thing to do, Inquisitor," the dwarf finally said.

"I do," Astlyr nodded. She glanced sideways at Cole, willing him not to speak. No doubt the spirit boy knew just how uncertain she actually was. He did meet her eyes, but he managed to keep quiet, for which she was intensely grateful. "We have horses waiting outside the temple. We'll carry him there and then put him on a horse and head back to Skyhold."

"Very well," Myfanwy bowed from the waist to Astlyr. It was clear the elf had figured out who was in charge. "This Skyhold...is it a village? You said fortress, but I do not know what one of those looks like."

"You've never seen a fortress?" Varric asked, dubious.

"I have lived in the wilds all my life," Myfanwy shrugged. "My brother and I avoided humans and larger villages because we knew how important it was that we remain free and able to help our lord."

"Riiiight," Varric said, with an expression that implied he thought Myfanwy had a few screws loose.

"Let's get him up, shall we?" Cullen took charge of the situation, deftly. He strode over to the limp figure. Seemingly on a whim he knelt and felt for a pulse. He gave Astlyr a quick non of affirmation before scooping up the young man in a shoulder carry. "Shall we?"

"Let's." Astlyr agreed, hurrying with the others to hastily pack up their camp. Then, with Myfanwy walking beside Cullen, her expression concerned as she made sure the unconscious figure's head did not loll too much, the group made their way out of the temple.

Once outside the overgrown temple walls Astlyr and her friends whistled for their horses. Smoke came trotting up, leading the others. Astlyr strapped her packs to his back and then she buckled her armor on with an unwilling feeling. The day was too fair to be burdened down by so much. Cullen pulled on his chain shirt and breastplate, but left his shoulder pauldrons in the pack. He rode with the strange elf before him in the saddle, propped against him.

As they made their way along a narrow wooded path, single file, with Myfanwy on Cole's horse, Astlyr was feeling remarkably good about the situation. She felt certain that once they got back to Skyhold, and this strange spirit person woke up, that they would finally have some answers, not the least of which was why he had spoken to her in _that_ voice.

There was a faint whistle, then a solid 'thunk' and she heard Cullen yell. Before she even had a chance to turn there was another whistle and something sliced her brow at the hairline and clattered against her horn. Blood began instantly pouring into her right eye. Reacting as quickly as she was able she reached down and grabbed her shield, which hung on a special strap on her saddle.

"Rally!" she shouted to her people, jerking Smoke's reins around. Dorian was already out of the saddle, Varric drawing Bianca. Cullen was one the ground, having clearly fallen from his mount, and was struggling to regain his feet. An arrow was buried deeply into the bicep of his left arm. The unconscious elf was beside him in the dirt.

"Where are they?!" Astlyr growled, scanning the forest around them, sliding from the saddle. She gave Smoke a slap on the rump and the horse moved out of her way as best he could in the dense trees.

More arrows hissed in, but this time she was ready and they pinged harmlessly off her shield. Others lodged in the loam around the feet of her friends, or into nearby trees.

"I've got them!" Cole appeared briefly in front of her then vanished again, knives drawn.

Another cluster of arrows flew from the forest towards Cullen and the fallen elf. Dorian reacted faster than Astlyr thought possible, calling a wall of ice to stop the projectiles. Myfanwy loaded her own bow, firing several rapid shots between the trees. She was rewarded by the thud of a body hitting the earth. "Over there!" Varric shouted, aiming Bianca.

Astlyr felt useless without ranged weapons or the power to teleport she was pointless in this fight. She turned towards Cullen, who still crouched, also seemingly unsure what to do. She planted her shield in the dirt as she squatted behind it, so they were concealed on one side by the shield and on the other by the legs of Cullen's horse. "I don't think he was badly hurt when we fell," Cullen said of their elven charge as she turned to face her.

"What about you?" she gestured to his arm.

"I'll process that when the adrenaline wears off. You've got your own." he nodded towards her.

Astlyr swiped warm blood from her eye with annoyance. It was making it difficult for her to see, but the pain was not bad. There was another metallic ring as an arrow struck her shield.

They heard strangled screams from the trees to their left, and shortly two more in the direction that Dorian and Varric had fired their magic and bolts. Then Cole blinked back into the group, an intense expression of anger on his features. "I killed them," he said.

"I believe we helped," Dorian interjected, coiling magic back around himself and hurrying to the side of the wounded.

"My lord!" Myfanwy gasped, dropping to her knees beside her fallen deity.

Cole was with Cullen then, kneeling and checking over the arrow. "This goes deep. Biting. Needs a healer."

"Yes," Cullen said between gritted teeth, "I agree."

Cole placed his hands around the arrow, "sooth," he breathed.

Cullen's face cleared slightly, and he gave Cole a quick smile. "That's is an interesting trick."

"We still need a healer," the boy said, standing and turning to Astlyr. He took a knee in front of her crouched form and placed a cool hand on her brow. "This is not bad. Sooth," he said, and she felt the pain lesson considerably.

"Let's see," Dorian moved to see Astlyr's wound as well. He placed firm fingers under her jaw. "Just fix your gaze on my glorious face while I check for damage to your eye."

"It's fine Dorian," Astlyr assured him, but she let her friend fuss. "It missed my eye, it's just bleeding like mad."

"You can never be too careful with head wounds," the mage replied, wiping away blood with great gentleness.

"Who were they?" Astlyr asked as Cole moved back to comfort Cullen.

"Elves," answered the boy, simply.

"But we're helping elves," Varric sounded annoyed.

"They're from a nearby Dalish tribe," Myfanwy explained, checking a shallow cut on her thigh where a arrow had grazed her.

Astlyr nodded to a mark on Cole's cheek. It was dark, not like the bright red blood a human would sustain, but she knew it was a cut. "Looks like they fought back a bit."

"They did not want to die," Cole's voice had an edge to it.

"So we're helping Dalish and being attacked by Dalish?" asked Cullen. He grabbed the arrow lodged in his arm and broke it off with a firm motion and a grimace. Cole placed his hands to sooth the wound again.

Myfanwy glared at him as though she thought he was stupid. "Do all humans live in the same tribe? Do all humans have the same beliefs? Of course not. Those that attacked are new to the area, but their hunters had noticed my brother and I bringing offerings to the temple. I do not know if they merely feared you, or if they suspected we had Lord Fen'Heral with us. They believe that our lord was responsible for the death of the other gods."

"You mentioned that before," Varris nodded, eying the surrounding forest with distrust.

"Did you kill them all?" Astlyr asked.

"I will check," Cole vanished.

Dorian expertly wound a bandage around Astlyr's head, careful of her horns, "there we are. Good as new."

Astlyr stood, pleased that there was no hint of dizziness from a concussion. Qunari had hard skulls, and the arrow had struck the thicker bone at the base of her horn. "Can you ride?" She asked Cullen.

Dorian scrutinized the arrow lodged in the warrior's arm, "I don't see a lot of bleeding. As long as you keep the arm still you should be alright."

Cullen nodded curtly. "Someone else can ride with sleepy though," he nodded with resentment to the limp figure in the grass.

"They are all dead," Cole reappeared, looking solemn.

"Alright," Astlyr whistled and Smoke gathered the scattered horses back together, "let's get home. I'm ready for this adventure to be over."

"You brought back what?!" Cassandra was using a voice she usually reserved for battling demons and informing her men when they had done something particularly idiotic.

"This is interesting," Iron Bull cut in in his usual level tone.

The group had managed to reach Skyhold without further incident. Now they had gathered in the infirmary where the healers (especially the women) were fussing over Cullen's arm. They were baffled by the elven man who now lay to one side on a bed. "I told you what we did," said Astlyr, feeling annoyed. She was seated on a bed herself, and a younger healer was checking her head.

"For the record," Varric raised his hand slightly, "I said this was a bad idea from the beginning."

"For once you and I agree," Cassandra folded her arms and glared at the assemblage. "Astlyr, I never imagined you would be the one to bring a potential demon right into Skyhold."

"He is not a demon," Myfanwy piped up for the third or fourth time. Her voice was starting to sound tired.

Cas folded her arms. "Yes, so you said. An old god, then. Even if that is true, which I am far from certain I believe, what would stop a god from doing whatever he liked with our fortress?"

"Well, he is unconscious at the moment," Dorian pointed out before being glared down by Cassandra, "I'll...be over here," he moved away and began idly fiddling with some of the healing supplies.

Casandra continued. "We don't have the forces here at the moment to hold out against something so powerful."

"I don't think he's going to be that powerful," Cullen put in as a healer expertly tucked his arm into a sling, then batted her eyelashes at the handsome warrior. He little noticed. "Myfanwy said it is severely weakened, and I am inclined to believe her. Until now it was inside a dead bird, which can't be good for anyone. As soon as it went into the body of Myfanwy's brother over here it collapsed to sleep it off. If we are dealing with a deity, it's a weakened one."

Cassandra was not looking reassured. Astlyr sighed, standing up to her full, and impressive, height to look more commanding. "Alright, I'll say it again. For some reason I still have the title of Inquisitor, which means you all must still believe I should be in charge, at least to some degree. I made a decision, I have to live with it. I did not make it without first considering the effects on my people and this fortress. Whatever is laying on that bed came to me for help, and I helped. It's what I do. I know some of you are displeased with my decision, but it was mine to make."

Cassandra opened her mouth, then closed it again into a hard line, but her expression was assenting.

"Astlyr is right," Josephine spoke for the first time. She had been sitting in the corner, madly scribbling on her notes. "If we expect her to be our Inquisitor, she cannot be merely a figure head."

"I understand you gave me my authority during wartime," Astlyr said, her voice steady, "and now perhaps we should discuss new, better, peacetime leaders."

Cassandra shook her head, setting her jaw. "I believe that you can be both. I followed you into the Fade. I followed you to take down a giant hole in the sky itself. I can keep my faith in you from faltering so easily."

Cole, who had been sitting protectively with Cullen, walked over now that the warrior was well taken care of. "The air is full of anxiety," he said, matter of fact. He glanced at Varric, "I think Cassandra is right. I think we should turn that thing back out into the cold. Or kill it," he finished, meeting the seeker's gaze.

"Cole, please," Varric heaved a sigh. "Just because I feel something doesn't mean everyone needs to know it."

"I want to help," the spirit said, in a hushed tone.

"Cole, tell them mine," Astlyr got the boy's attention.

He walked towards her and stopped. She hesitated, then held out her hand. He took hold of her fingertips, a very gentle touch. "My people are frightened and that twists me inside. Like ice creeping though my veins. Cold, cruel, crushing, crashing, crystallizing. I want to reassure, but I can't. I don't have the right words. Have I made a mistake? Have I...I could never harm them. Never. I want to be a good leader to them, and it haunts me always. A dark figure with a knife. Can I keep my shield between them and danger?" he let go, looking at her for approval.

"Thank you, Cole," she said, meeting the gaze of her followers.

Cassandra nodded. "Alright, Astlyr. We'll keep him here. Under guard at all times."

"Cole will sit with him too. The second he wakens Cole can teleport to us to let us know," Astlyr said.

"Very well. As for you..." she addressed Myfanwy.

"I will stay with my lord," the elf stuck out her chin, her eyes fierce.

"I wasn't going to suggest a dungeon," the seeker smiled faintly. "Merely that you should be watched carefully. It will be easy to keep an eye on you here, as my men will already by guarding the other newcomer."

"And some of mine," Cullen put in. "Templars, in case of magic."

This seemed to suit Myfanwy, and she sat back down on the bed beside the man that had been her brother.

"Alright, so we have a plan," Astlyr sighed, feeling suddenly very tired. "Now can we get back to business as usual, at least for the moment. My team and I missed breakfast."

"I second that," Cullen said, smiling. "Honestly," he gave Josie a grin, "this is what happens when you leave Skyhold. I can't recommend it." She chuckled.

The group, sans Cole, made their way out of the infirmary and towards the tavern. Astlyr hung back with Iron Bull. He tilted his head towards her as they spoke in hushed tones. "That was an interesting leadership tactic," Bull said, grinning crookedly. "Giving them orders, then showing them your soft underbelly."

Astlyr sighed, scratching bandages at base of her horn, "I know. In battle it's easy. Watch the flank! Tighten up that shield line! Arrows fire! This peacetime crap is what I'm no good at. Half the time I have no idea why I am still the leader. Because I make an impressive figurehead?" she gestured to herself emphatically.

"If that's all they wanted they'd put me in charge," Bull chuckled.

"You would probably do better than me," she said, woefully.

"Believe it or not I'm an even worse peacetime leader than you. Ask Krem. He gets fed up with me when we're not fighting. I'm lazy, you see," he gave her another lopsided smile, his single eye twinkling.

"But your chargers respect you."

"Your people respect you."

"I feel like their respect is hanging by a thread," Astlyr fidgeted with her white hair, which was falling from its bun. "When I was saving the world it was easy to see why they would follow me, but now..." she paused looked at her hand, which was gloved, but in her mind's eye she saw the mark, dark green and still.

"Well, one thing people don't want to see is a mopey leader," Bull gave her a playful jostle which would have sent a human tumbling.

She bumped him forcefully back with her hip, smiling as she saw the dragon tooth she had given him hanging on a leather necklace, fall out of his shirt front. He laughed in his too-loud way and tucked it back in. "So, Kadan, I can tell there's more you wanted to talk about besides your poor leadership techniques."

Astlyr nodded. "I didn't mention it to the others, and only Cole and I seemed to notice, but when the old god thing changed bodies it spoke to me."

"What did it say?" Bull's thick brows knit.

"'My friend,'" she answered. "But it wasn't what it said that mattered. It was the voice it used. I could have sworn it was...but now I'm thinking I must have imagined it."

"What? It sounded like your mother? Your long lost best friend, Jim?" he was trying to make her laugh.

"You're not far off, actually," she said, leaning her shoulder against his. He put his massive arm around her as they walked.

He seemed to ponder, "long lost best friend eh? Well, let's see. I'm right here. Dorian's right there. Who else would you call your..." he hesitated, glancing sideways at her.

She nodded in answer to his look. "I'm certain now that I'm crazy for thinking it. It must have been my imagination, but at the time I could have sworn that that thing-" she jabbed her thumb in the direction of the infirmary, "spoke with Solas' voice."

****Chapter 4 likely coming: 01/01/15


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

**The Wolf in the Night**

Astlyr lit a candle on the desk, blinking in the small, but insistent flame. She looked about herself. The shadows in Solas' study stretched around her. She could just make out the artfully painted walls. She often wondered if the scholarly elf had commissioned the work. She doubted he had done them himself, but perhaps... She had never thought him particularly artistic. She lifted the candle, squinting. Qunari had superior night vision, but the room had only one door which led to the outside, and no windows. The darkness was complete without her candle. She had already barked her shin on the desk leg when she had first entered the room.

She sighed, wishing she could see her friend, bent over his work for some late night studying. If ever there was a time to have an expert on the Fade and elves it was now, and he was gone. Her mind strayed to the young man in the infirmary below her. Had he really spoken with that voice she knew, or had she imagined it? The more time went by the more she thought her imagination must have got the better of her. She sighed, glancing over the abandoned papers on his desk, which had been riffled through by the spymaster's people in their effort to learn where Solas had gone.

She moved back to her study of the paintings. Near the floor at the back of the room she found what she was looking for. There were many wolves depicted the on the walls, but most were large and prominent. She sought out a small, black wolf, almost obscured by the much larger figure of a silver moon. She scrutinized the painted canine. It had blue eyes, like the one in her dream, but it seemed different as well. More vicious. Its fangs were bared. Still, she reached out her hand to it, touching its painted nose with her fingertip. Nothing happened. She clicked her tongue at her own ridiculousness and sat back on her heels.

"Can't sleep?"

She turned at the soft voice in the doorway. It was Cullen. He leaned on the door-frame, watching her with a passive expression. She shrugged. "No. I keep trying to fall asleep and seeing wolves as soon as I close my eyes."

"Normal people count sheep."

"Sheep eh? I should try that," she chuckled. "Why are you up?" she rose from her crouch and crossed to sit against the desk (Solas' chair was much too small for her).

"The arm's keeping me awake," he admitted, gesturing to the sling.

"The healers can give you something for the pain, you know," she pointed out.

"I don't want it," he waved away her concern with his good hand. "This kind of pain is what I prefer. It blocks out the other." He didn't need to elaborate. She knew well his struggle with lyrium and his firm decision to stop taking it. She knew it caused him daily discomfort.

Astlyr sighed and tilted her head back, looking up into the rafters where a pair of swallows had found their way in and had built a winter nest. She finally let her green eyes meet Cullen's gaze again. "Can I admit something to you?"

"Of course," he smiled, stepping further into the room.

"I have no idea what I'm doing here. I'm leading with hunches. I'm telling people to trust me without trusting myself to make the right call," she fixed him with a baleful eye, "why am I still in charge?" Cullen hesitated, as if weighing his answer. She filled in for him. "It's because of this, isn't it?" she held up her bare hand so he could see the anchor mark in the flickering light. "Because I sealed the rift and now everyone thinks I'm a hero, and heroes lead. But they're wrong."

"You do a fine job," Cullen put in, his voice firm. "You're a bit...untried at being a leader when you're not fighting undead or demons, but everyone has to learn. And you're not alone, you know," Cullen pointed out. "Cas and I are still here, willing and able to help with our mountains of experience with shouting at people."

Astlyr couldn't help but chuckle. "That's true," her face fell into seriousness again. "Cullen, will you make a deal with me like you have with Cassandra?"

"What do you mean?" the warrior tilted his head.

"If I do something truly stupid, or something that you feel puts people in too much danger, you take me right out of that situation. You take over, no questions asked. Will you do that for me?"

Cullen gave her words a few moments of thought, his expression serious. "Alright. I doubt it will ever happen, but if it does, I'll take charge. Or at least try," he looked her up and down. She stood at least a head taller than he, and was quite muscular. He shook his head in obvious admiration, "Well, at least you make an impressive figurehead."

"Thanks," she smirked. Cullen winced, holding his wounded arm. "You're sure you wouldn't like a healer?" she asked, touching his other shoulder gently.

"No, no. But thank you, Astlyr," he smiled thinly up at her.

Then there was a clatter and a guard appeared at the door looking frazzled. "There you are, Inquisitor! Someone said they saw you heading this way, but you are hard to find for someone so..." the guard caught herself.

"Big?" Astlyr filled in.

"I was going to say noticeable," the woman shrugged, obviously pleased at getting away with a little cheek. "Anyway, Ma'am, you should come at once. It's your friend, Sera. She's gone a bit... more mad than usual. We didn't want to do anything without your say-so ma'am."

Astlyr hurried to follow the guard, Cullen in tow She ignored the guard's remarks about Sera's sanity. The elf may have been odd, but she was as sane as Astlyr herself. Still, most of the soldiers steered clear of the unusual woman as she was prone to mood swings and deadly baking attempts

The guard led the way down to the infirmary where an unusual standoff was in progress. Sera stood, bow fully drawn, facing off with Myfanwy across the room. The Dalish elf did not have her bow, as it had been confiscated, but she had seemingly managed to grapple a sword away from one of the baffled guards, and was pointing it at Sera. The guards stood back a bit, confused as to how to react. The mage who was with them had magic ready in her hand, but was obviously unsure of who to lob the spell at.

Cole, who had been standing behind Myfanwy, beside the bed, saw Astlyr and blinked over to her side, speaking fast with his eyes fixed on Sera, "Danger is here in our keep! Why wasn't I told? The Inquisitor should have known better...should have known. I'll kill it. I'll end the danger. Have to kill it. Have to protect us. No one else will do it. I'm afraid. Doesn't make sense. Isn't right. Doesn't fit."

"Alright. What the hell is going on?" Astlyr strode past Cole, though she touched his arm to signal her thanks for his words. She placed her impressive stature between the two elves, facing Sera.

"That _thing_!" Sera growled, not letting her bowstring go slack, even as she now aimed at Astlyr's ribcage. "It ain't right and it ain't safe! We need to kill it before it turns into something toothy and murders the lot of us!"

"She just marched in here and pulled a weapon on the elf in the bed," a guard explained.

"Damn right I did," Sera cut in, "Only, I'm surprised I had to. Where were you at, eh? Making smoochy faces at Iron Bull all this time? There's killing what needs doing here!"

Astlyr reached out a hand hand lowered the arrow's tip towards the floor. "Alright Sera. We're alright. It's time to calm down now."

"Calm down? Have you gone mental? Those horns of yours worked their way down to stab you in the brain? We have an honest to Maker demon just waiting for us to let our guard down, and you give it a cushy bed? D'you fluff its pillows for it? No. Not alright. Kill it and hurry."

"Sera, we don't know that it's a demon." Astlyr pointed out, moving with the elf as she tried to tilt her bow around for a clean shot.

"Of course it is! It has to be! I heard some men sayin' it were an old god, but that's bullshit ent it? You an' me, we know that elfy elf god stuff is a load of crock. So that means we got a demon right here and I am going to stick it full of arrows before it decides to wake up."

Astlyr shot a 'help me' glance towards Cullen, but he seemed as uncertain of what to do as she was. "It might be another helpful spirit, like Cole," the warrior pointed out, hopefully.

"I heard old baldly, Solas saying that Cole was the only one like that," Sera shot back.

"Good spirits are rare," Astlyr said, reaching tentatively out to try to take the bow, to no avail.

"Feel betrayed. How could she do this? Thought she was my friend, and that she knew better, but she's just as stupid as the rest." Cole's hushed voice filled the silence for a moment.

"Tell 'im to stop doing that shite!" Sera whirled, aiming her bow at Cole, who blinked as he stared down the deadly shaft.

"Sera!" A new voice joined burst powerfully into the room. Cassandra strode in, followed by the guard who had obviously run to fetch her, even as Astlyr was being sent for. The woman disarmed Sera with two practiced motions, passing the bow and arrow to the guard. "Listen now," Cassandra faced down the elf's defiant and enraged stare. "I understand that you are upset with the Inquisitor. She allowed this visitor to come into our keep. Our home. She may be endangering us all. But I know you, Sera. I have fought beside you, as you have beside Astlyr. In the end, Sera, you are going to have to decide if you trust her. We have constant guards watching this man, with mages and templars, as well as Cole. The second anything looks suspicious we will kill it. But I do not believe it is a demon. Do you trust my judgment, Sera? You have countless times on the field, why not here as well?"

"Because you're wrong," Sera snapped, her eyes fierce. "You and I both know that ain't no elven god." She turned and stared up into Astlyr's eyes with a deadly sharpness, but Astlyr's gaze in return was level. The eyes of one dealing with a dangerous horse. Calm, steady, and firm. Sera let her arms fall to her sides. She fumed, sticking out her jaw as she moved to march past Cas towards the door. "You tell me the second anythin' happens. I won't be kept out of the loop any more."

"Fair enough," the qunari nodded.

"An' _you_ can steer clear of me," Sera pulled another arrow from her quiver and pointed it at Cole, then let the arrow fall back into place.

"I shall be here," the spirit boy said, still watching her calmly.

The guard timidly handed Sera back her bow as she stalked from the room. When the elf was gone Astlyr let her shoulders relax with a heavy sigh, running a hand through her long silver-white hair, which was loose instead of in its usual bun. "Thank you, Cas," she said, wearily. She might have been embarrassed at her failure to talk the enraged elf down, but her admiration for her human friend overshadowed it for the moment.

"Not bad," Cullen was grinning, a little like a cat.

"That was merely a stop-gap measure," the scarred woman said, shooting Astlyr a tight look. "You will have to keep an eye on that girl. She may try something like that again."

"That was a little exciting actually," one of the healers admitted, looking down, shly.

"Will this happen often?" asked Myfanwy, passing the sword she had been holding back to the annoyed looking guard she had taken it from.

"I hope not," Astlyr's shoulders slumped as she crossed the room to stare down at the figure of the young man, still motionless on the bed. His expression was restful, with no evidence of discomfort. She pursed her lips as she studied him, wishing he would just wake up so they could get this over with.

"It might," Cullen spoke. "I have a feeling this is a microcosm of what will come. The people in SkyHold and the surrounding areas have seen enough demons to be more than justified in their concern."

A few of the guards nodded knowingly and the mage gripped her staff grimly.

"Why did you lie?" Cole tilted his head towards Cassandra. "You told Sera that you didn't think it was a demon, but you lied."

"I'm not sure what it is," Cassandra admitted. "But I needed to calm her down, so I lied. Please don't tell her."

Cole gave a wan little smile, "she hates me because I can open up her pain and see what she fears. She doesn't want me to help, or make it go away. I will help her by staying away."

"Good," Cassandra folded her arms and looked satisfied.

Astlyr groaned, "It seems like no matter what happens with our guest here, things only gets worse. Maybe I'm sorry I even picked up that damn bird."

"No," Cole's voice was firm as he stood up and met her eyes. "Helping is always the right choice, even when helping is hard. You help, Astlyr. You always try."

"The lad's right," admitted Cas. "You care...a lot more than might be expected from a qunari, but the people can see that. It's why they follow you."

"Well at least I have something then, I suppose," Astlyr looked down at her hand, where the mark was ever dormant. "Caring doesn't stop me from making bad choices."

"This was not a bad choice," Myfanwy spoke. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the hand of the man who had once been her brother. "My people have thought themselves abandoned for so long. Unloved by the gods we once worshiped, or worse, that those gods were dead. Now one may yet live, and we have a chance to help him. It is the greatest honor. If your Andraste appeared and asked for your help, wouldn't you do anything to aid her?"

"She's not my-" Astlyr began.

"Yes." Cullen spoke without hesitation. His eyes were steely.

Astlyr sighed again, hand on the back of her neck, "alright then. I made the decision I made, for good or ill. For now let us all get some sleep. You guards may ask for your replacements to come early. You've had a bit of an adventure tonight."

"Thank you ma'am," the guards said, smiling to one another.

She turned to Cassandra, feeling a cold sensation in her chest. Cas was a good and strong leader, something that Astlyr was not certain she could ever be. She nodded to the woman. "Thank you again."

"I am certain you would have resolved it, but I saw the opportunity to assist you, so I did," she glanced towards Cole with a half smile, "and the boy seems to think that helping is always the right answer."

"So he does," Astlyr felt a smile pull her own lips. "Cullen, I'll walk you back to your room."

He gave her a cheeky grin, "shouldn't I be walking you, my lady?"

She shook her head, chuckling, "You know I am about as far from being a lady as they get. Come with us, Cas?"

"I'll stay and oversee the guard change," Cassandra answered.

"Alright," Astlyr dipped her head again as she and Cullen walked together from the infirmary.

When they were well out of earshot in the darkened keep Cullen spoke again, "I hope you were not upset with the guards for seeking Cassandra as well as you to help."

Astlyr shook her head, glancing down at the man, "I really can't be. The guards made the right decision to bring her. I don't know if I would have talked her down."

"You would have," Cullen reassured her. "Cas just has more experience to get the job done quicker."

"You're right, of course,"Astlyr said, hesitating in front of Cullen's door. "You're alright?" she gestured towards his injured arm.

He nodded, "Yes. Thank you. All this excitement has effectively taken my mind off it."

"You're welcome," Astlyr snarked. "Good sleep, my friend."

"Good sleep to you, friend," Cullen reached up and gave her upper arm a reassuring squeeze, "you did fine."

She nodded dumbly, lips tight, as he closed his door behind him. Then, feeling low, she trudged across to her own quarters. She threw aside her fur bedclothes, fell onto her mattress and tumbled into sleep almost at once.

"_The Fade. How original," she muttered, folding her arms and peering around at her green surroundings. "Are there a wolf and a dragon here tonight?"_

_This time she heard no distant roar of a winged beast. The silence mocked her. She bit back frustration. She hated this place where nothing made sense. She shot a look at her hand. The mark was quiet,without the hint of life. She sighed and flopped down on a rock, which was covered in a slithery sort of moss. She didn't care. She would sit here until she woke and that would be the end of it._

_Then she felt something cold on her hand, where it rested in the rock. She looked down and jumped. The small, black wolf had come up silently as death and now touched her with his wet nose. Then he looked up at her and his bushy tail gave a friendly wag. In that moment he looked more like the friendly old hound she had had growing up, rather than a deadly predator. He blinked his blue eyes as though begging for a treat._

"_Are you, Fen'Heral?" Astlyr asked. This time she didn't stop herself. She petted his head, right between his velvety, upright ears. The wolf wagged his tail again. "I'll take that as a yes," Astlyr decided as she stroked his fur. She had been right in her guess before. He was indeed extremely soft. "You're asleep in my world, right?"_

_The wolf tilted his head and made a high whimper. Then, with no ceremony, he plopped down to lay across her feet. She couldn't help but laugh aloud. Her laugh sounded strange in the Fade. Otherworldly, hardly her own. She stopped, but could not hide her continued amusement at the beast as he looked up at her. "Did you ever meet a hound named Dash?" she asked. "I think the two of you would have gotten along well." Then she frowned, "Do you plan to wake up soon?" The wolf whimpered again, nuzzling her calf with a wet nose. "No? You're causing me no small amount of trouble out there, pup," she said, wondering briefly if it was a smite-able offense to refer to the Dread Wolf as 'pup'. "I just wish I knew how to wake you up. It just so happens that the one fellow who might have been able and willing to help wandered off without so much as a goodbye." She felt a stab of sadness and anger as she thought of Solas' leaving._

_The wolf butted her hand with his head. She had stopped petting as her thoughts had strayed. "Oh, I'm sorry," she smirked as the tip of the black tail thup thupped. "No," she said, as though carrying on a conversation with the beast, "Myfanwy doesn't know. I mean, if she did you would think she would have suggested it already. Wait," Astlyr snapped her fingers, and the wolf's ears pricked up and her ooked at her intensely. For a moment she was captured in the look. The feeling that she had been scrutinized that way before by someone else._

"_You are not what I expected." a voice echoed distantly. She wasn't certain if she heard it, or thought it. She shook her head, the wisp of memory escaping her._

"_I think I know someone who can help us," she told the wolf._

_Fen'Heral wagged his tail two good beats and nuzzled her knee. She patted his ribby side, the way she had used to for Dash. The wolf, god or no, seemed to enjoy this as well. Briefly she contemplated giving him a belly rub, but decided against it. "As soon as I wake up, I'll talk to my contact. I feel certain that she'll know what to do with you and we'll soon have you awake."_

_Thup thup when his tail._

"I was wondering when you would come to me with this issue," the dark haired woman smiled a little wolfishly herself.

"I'm sorry, Morrigan," Asatlyr admitted, "I forget sometimes about the whole, ancient elven knowledge thing."

"One would believe it difficult to forget, considering I was able to transform into a dragon to aid your final fight against Coryphious," the yellow eyed mage pointed out as she followed Astlyr towards the infirmary, tall darkwood staff in hand.

"That was pretty unforgettable," Astlyr agreed as she held open the door for Morrigan to enter.

The guards inside snapped to attention at their Inquisitor's entrance. She motioned for them to relax, "as you were, gentlemen," she reassured them.

"So this is him? The one claiming to be an ancient elven god? A bit scrawny," the slender woman eyed the young man on the bed.

"Who is this?" Myfanwy stood up from where she had been sitting at the foot of the bed.

"The dragon lady," Cole strolled over, watching Morrigan with a mixture of interest and mistrust on his features.

"The who?" Myfanway folded her arms and looked uneasy as Morrigan leaned over her charge.

"Yes...hmmm," Morrigan stood back, hand over her lips as she seemed to consider.

Astlyr kept quiet, watching. Cole moved to stand beside her. "Why did you call her?" he asked.

"She has the knowledge of the elders. She stepped into the Well of Sorrows and gained a good deal of elven knowledge. She may be able to help us waken our friend here from his slumber."

"If this is indeed a god," Morrigan began, waving an elegant hand towards the bed, "then he is likely sleeping to regain his strength."

"Of course he is," Myfanwy said, as though this assertion was becoming a reflex.

"How long do they normally sleep?" Astlyr questioned.

"My dear, if it is a god, there is nothing normal about him. He could awaken today, or a year from now." The mage replied. She coiled a strand of magic around her fingers, then sent it slithering over the still figure. Myfanwy did not look pleased with this scrutiny, but she said nothing. "However, his body will likely die of dehydration before that."

"We have been attempting to get him to drink," a healer stepped forward. "We have been able to get some water and a little broth down him, but lady Morrigan is correct. We cannot get enough into him for him to live in this state for more than a month."

"Why did no one tell me this?" Astlyr put her fists on her hips.

The healer looked cowed, "we wanted to see if he would waken before we panicked. He's not in danger yet."

Astlyr sighed and rubbed her temples. "Alright, so we need to wake him. Do you know of anything that can do that?"

"Perhaps," Morrigan said in her soft purr of a voice. "I believe I have read of something not long ago in one of the elvhen tomes I have been studying. An item that can give strength to a slumbering god, enabling them to waken much sooner than they might have."

"You read?" Astlyr raised an eyebrow, "I thought your head was chock full of elven knowledge now."

"It doesn't work that way, my dear Inquisitor," Morrigan looked skyward as though Astlyr was slow. "I do not have the memories of generations of elves swimming around up here," she gestured to her forehead. "I am, however, able to read elvhen text that has long since lost meaning for The People. This is where I read of the item you must seek."

"Do we know where it is?" Astlyr asked. She felt energized already, barely keeping herself from bouncing on the balls of her feet. A good quest was just what she needed to get her mind off of her Skyhold failings.

"I know where it was. There is no saying if it is there still." Morrigan explained, eying the qunari with a little mirth in her eyes.

"Come, to the map room. Show me," Astlyr's green eyes were alight and her spirit already miles ahead of her feet.

"I want to go," Cole spoke up, turning to follow them.

"To the map room?" Astlyr turned, tilting her head.

"No. On the quest," the spirit clarified.

"Shouldn't you stay here. To sense him if he wakens?" Astlyr turned to face her friend.

"Must we always argue with the boy?" Morrigan sounded annoyed. "Merely order him to stay here and be done with it."

Astlyr ignored the mage, studying Cole. "I want to go with you," Cole reiterated, firmly. "I cannot read his pain," he gestured to the unconscious elf. "There is still a veil over his mind. If he wakes, the mages and guards will be able to tell well enough if he will harm them."

"You're sure?" Astlyr questioned. Truthfully she would be glad of Cole's company. He was practically her shadow since she had helped him free the spirit side of himself. He dutifully wore the amulet she and Solas had acquired for him to keep him from being controlled by those who might mean him ill. She suspected he did not want to be left out of the adventures any more than she did, but she also knew him to be responsible by nature. He would not leave if he thought his presence truly necessary.

Cole nodded in answer to her question, and his expression was firm. Morrigan heaved a dramatic sigh, but said nothing more. "Alright," Astlyr nodded. "You can come with us. While Morrigan and I are in the war room would you go speak to Cassandra, Iron Bull, Dorian and Varric. I am certain they will be eager to join us as well."

"Of course," Cole vanished before Astlyr could remind him not to startle anyone.

A few hours later found the group packing their horses and chattering amiably. Cullen stood with them looking a bit disappointed. "I wish I could go with you," he admitted when Cole looked ready to launch in to an explanation for the man's sad expression.

"Someone needs to keep Skyhold in one piece," Varric walked past, carrying several packs of food.

"Don't worry, Cullen," Astlyr smiled reassuringly. "Give your arm time to heal and you can join us on our next mission. And you know there will be a next one. We are forever running adventurous errands."

"You'd think we might have a few more people to do this sort of thing," Dorian put in as he stuffed an extra fur-lined cloak into one of his already overflowing saddlebags.

"No body does it like us," Iron Bull chuckled. His horse was an impressive animal indeed. Legs the size of small tree trunk and hooves as big as dinner plates. It dwarfed even Astlyr's intimidating mount, but it was a docile as a butterfly. Bull has once explained to Astlyr how he had tried to train the horse for war, but it would not strike out at a person, no matter what he did. Finally he gave up. He certainly couldn't afford to replace a beast of that size on a mercenary's wage.

"I'll keep an eye on our Inquisitor," Cassandra said, giving Cullen's wounded arm a 'friendly' pat. He grimaced, but managed to turn it into a long suffering smile.

"And if that god-thing wakes up and turns out to be a demon..." Astlyr began.

"Kill it immediately. I know the drill," Cullen gave her a curt nod, even though this was the third time she had mentioned it.

Cassandra patted the neck of her mount. A beautiful creature with a coat the color of fire, and a disposition in battle to match. "Don't let Sera murder him before you know one way or another."

"Right," Cullen agreed.

Astlyr felt a bit guilty for not asking the elf to accompany them, but she knew well enough how Sera would feel about this mission. Seeking out something elven and magical? Definitely not her idea of a worthwhile endeavor. "Are we ready?" she asked her people, swinging herself up into the saddle.

"We are," Cas affirmed, checking over their company with a practiced eye.

"Try not to bring home any more god-things," Cullen called as the group began to make their way out of the keep and into the mountains beyond.


	5. Chapter 5

******Note, reposting this chapter in hopes that this time will not devour it! Thanks to jpgFury for catching it! If the problem continues please let me know!*****

**Part 5**

**Cold Comfort**

"This. Is. The worst." Dorian's complaints cut through the biting wind to reach Astlyr's ears. Her ears which prickled with the icy grip of cold. Even the two Qunari were shivering as they encouraged their mounts onward through the blizzard. Astlyr bit back an angry retort. There was no need to scold her friend. He was right. With winter already threatening more southern climes the frigid temperature of Emprise Du Lion had reached deadly levels. Though the group had packed well with many warm furs, the wind still managed to find every place where Astlyr's attire was thinnest. Cole, of course, was unbothered by the weather, but was concerned for his friends. He had gone from horse to horse passing out more warm furs and encouraging words.

These words did little to help Dorian, who suffered the most vocally of the bunch. Astlyr might have had stern words with him about affecting everyone's morale, but she couldn't get her chattering teeth to let her get a word in edgewise. Instead she tightened her grip on Smoke's reins, encouraging the horse to trudge onward. Once they achieved the peak she hoped there would be a few places to shelter for the fast approaching night.

"I don't remember it being this bad the last time we were here," Varric managed between lips cracked with cold.

"It was not," Cassandra assured him, her eyes squinted to scan the terrain ahead.

"At least I don't see any red Templars roaming about this time," Iron Bull pointed out, his words muffled by the large scarf Cole had found for him.

"They're buried under all this damn snow," Dorian griped. "Do you have any idea what this air is doing to my complexion?"

Astlyr stifled a smile. She knew her friend was more bluster than actual anger. She was getting worried, however. Visibility was waning faster than she might have expected and she could feel her horse's strength flagging. She knew Varric's mount, though it was a stocky mountain horse, was struggling in the thick drifts which seemed to move like shifting sands. Astlyr spotted something, "make for that stand of trees," she pointed towards a close huddled group of conifers to the west.

The wind whipped her voice from her throat, but the message was passed back through her little band and they surged doggedly towards the place she had indicated. Cole teleported ahead to scout the area. He appeared on his horse's waiting back beside Astlyr. "Several rabbits have set up a home in those trees, so there are droppings, but it is sheltered."

"Grand. Rabbit droppings," Dorian muttered, riding closer to hear the young spirit's report. "Still, better warm droppings that cold winds, eh?" he shot Astlyr a cheeky smile.

The tough inquisitor could not help but chuckle as she put her head down and clung grimly to the saddle, occasionally looking up, with eyes streaming from cold, to ensure they were headed in the correct direction.

After what seemed an age they achieved the trees. Cole had not been wrong about the rabbits. Several fled under the lowest pine branches as the riders entered their little copse. Astlyr felt a great relief wash over her as the wind abated. She dismounted, as did her comrades, and they set about slowly making camp. "Be careful of the fire," Cassandra warned, wisely as Dorian raised his hands over the pile of kindling Varric had hastily gathered. "We have to find a spot where it will not catch on the trees or we will burn our shelter to the ground, and us with it."

Iron Bull picked up the entire pile of sticks and wood, setting it in the middle of tree gap. It was slightly less sheltered, but still better than it had been on their ride. Soon the mage had the fire blazing, as the others gathered what wood they could find. Dorian kept a small flame alight in his hands, warming them.

Finally the company settled as best they could. Tents were impossible with no good ground to drive the stakes into, so instead the leathers were draped over the surrounding trees to create more shelter. Then they huddled together, watching the flames dance and sharing the food they had brought. Varric heated water and dropped a few pine needles in to make a weak tea. All drank, gratefully.

"It is official," Dorian said, clasping both hands around his tin cup and looking up with redrimmed, baleful eyes, "This is the coldest I have ever been."

"My nose is dripping and my fingers and toes are prickled with a thousand needles. Biting, battering, blasting cold eating through me," Cole supplied.

Dorian gave the boy a wan smile, "yes, thank you." The tip of the man's nose had gone a cold crimson.

_Wonderful_, Astlyr thought with a heaviness in her chest, _now I'm going to get all my people sick_. She stood, pulling one of the furs from her shoulders and draping it over Dorian's. She sat down in the snow beside him and put her arm around him. He snuggled willingly against her. Iron Bull shot the mage a mock warning glance. "You're sure it's men you fancy?"

"Never fear," Dorian said with a cough, "were I not freezing to death as we speak I would never voluntarily be this close to breasts."

"I think I've been this cold before," Cassandra spoke up, her dark eyes focusing on the dancing flames. "I was fifteen. My uncle took my brother and I into the mountains. He would have only taken Antony but my brother begged that I could come. There was supposed to be an adolescent frost dragon up there. If we found it I was instructed to hide while the my uncle and brother killed it."

Astlyr stifled a chuckle at the thought of Cassandra letting the men kill a dragon without her.

"We didn't even see the damned thing," Cas chuckled, "but I got frostbite on these two fingers," she held up her hand to illustrate, "and poor Antony caught such a bad cold he lost his voice completely. He couldn't talk back to me for days. I loved it."

"I've been this cold," Varric piped up. "I was a lot younger too. My brother, Bartrand, and I were on a smuggling run, not too far from here as I recall. This was before we found homes in Kirkwall. We did manage to finish the run, but we almost didn't make it. Snow drifts were over my head. Why, I lost sight of my brother once. Only found him again because he was wearing one of those absurd helmets with the horns on it. Had to pull him out of the drift by his beard."

"You miss your brother," Cole strolled over. Completely unbothered by the harsh windchill. The spirit boy had been attempting to befriend a rabbit using a piece of bread.

Varric hung his head slightly, "yeah, Kid. Sometimes I do. He wasn't a bad person. Not for most of his life."

"Friends, family, everyone dies. Cannot trust people. Cannot love people because they will only go and leave me alone and empty. A loneliness that hangs on me like a weight around my neck. Slowly dragging me down to dust and desolation." Cole spoke quietly and rapidly.

Varric said nothing, but looked at his hands. Cassandra moved to him and put her own arm around his shoulders, as Astlyr had done for Dorian. The dwarf looked momentarily alarmed, as though certain she was trying to get him in a headlock, but then he relaxed, resting his head against the tough woman's shoulder.

"Oh gods, are we sharing now?" Iron Bull asked, with a playfulness in his tone. "The chargers and I have been cold like this loads of times. We got over it. And you can skip me with the touchy feely, what's-my-pain crap, kiddo," he gave Cole a warning look. "Today I think I'll just keep that to myself where it belongs."

Cole flashed Iron Bull a quick glance and shrugged his narrow shoulders, then put his head down and went back to crouching under the tree, seeking furry friends.

Everyone looked at Astlyr. Clearly it was her turn. She thought for a moment. "There was a year our roof fell in and my mother and father had to spend the day repairing it," she said, considering. "I don't think that was the coldest I have been though."

"How old were you?" asked Varric, pulling out of Cassandra's hug with an embarrassed look.

"Four, maybe. I don't remember much of it, except that I thought it was an exciting adventure to have to cook lunch out in the snow."

"The thought of three year old Astlyr is the most adorable thing I can picture," Iron Bull chuckled, playfully reaching over and tugging one of her horns.

"I'm told I was pretty cute," Astlyr admitted as her companions laughed. "You know, I think the coldest I have been was after Haven," she said reflectively after a pause, fixing her eyes on the dancing flames. Cole came back with an armload of twigs to add and plopped down, cross legged, to hear. Astlyr noticed that he had placed a sprig of pine into the band of his hat. "After I faced Coryphius for the first time and I managed to get that avalanche to fall on him. I was knocked down into some sort of cellar or cave. That was freezing enough in itself, and I am pretty sure I had a cracked rib or two, plus the concussion."

"They found you in the snow," said Cole, "you would have died."

"Cheerful as ever," Dorian muttered, sitting up a bit, though not quite willing to give up the warmth of his friend's arm.

"That was cold," Astlyr finished and everyone was silent for a long moment.

"Solas sat with you," Cole said, not looking up. "He didn't want to leave your side. I saw him there because I was worried for you as well, though I did not know you well then," the spirit boy explained.

"He was with me?" Astlyr asked.

"Yes. He only moved when forced to by hunger or the need to get away from the arguing."

"Our arguing," Cassandra admitted, looking ashamed. "In our defense the situation was pretty bad."

"I wonder if he walked with me in dreams," Astlyr pondered. "He said he had done before, when I stumbled from the Fade and wouldn't wake for days."

"Solas liked you," Cole said. "You made his pain less. You made him calm."

"Really?" she tilted her head to look towards the boy.

"Yes. Solas was very sad, but when he was with you, you made him less so. You were strong for him when he was tired of being strong. You do the same for Dorian, and Iron Bull...and me," he gave her a weak smile which was about as big as his expressions of happiness got.

Astlyr felt her cheeks go hot at this revelation. "Astlyr can have the job of 'the strongest'" Dorian said, mirth prickling in his voice, "as long as I keep my title of 'the most handsome.'"

The group fell back into chatter and lighter tales. It was a challenge to keep the fire going, as they were fast running out of fallen sticks and branches, but they managed. Dorian supplemented with his own, magical flame, when it was requested. Though all had seen better nights, but the end they could agree that this one was far from the worst.

Bears. Why was it always bears? Astlyr dodged an incoming claw and slashed with her sword, then struck the beast across the face with her shield. Apparently the bears had had the same idea as Astlyr and her friends, to shelter in he trees. They had been woken by the alarm of Iron Bull, who was on dawn watch, and the sound of their horses whinnying in fear.

Smoke and Bull's horse could hold their own against the beasts, and Cassandra's mare with kicking and biting wildly when the friends charged to the rescue. Magic blasted past Astlyr's head as Dorian picked his targets with skill. Iron Bull slammed into one of the largest bears with his shoulder, knocking the mass of fur and muscle to earth with a shower of snow. He smashed his maul downward, not doubt crushing the bear's thick skull.

Cole darted in and out, causing deadly bleeding wounds to the attacking animals. Astlyr and Cas came together, forming a two woman shield wall, pushing back against the grasping claws and teeth. Finally the bears all lay dead, their blood steaming in the snow. "Well," Dorian panted, "I suppose that is one way to get the blood going in the morning."

"I'm not cold any more," Iron Bull swung his maul to fall into the holder he wore strapped his his back.

Astlyr looked to the horses. A few cuts and scratches marred their sides, but nothing serious.

"Do bears just smell you and come running?" Varric huffed, slinging Bianca back over his shoulder.

"I must have smeared myself in ham grease again last night," Astlyr joked, sheathing her own sword. She gave herself a quick once over. Though she had not yet put on her armor, the layers of furs she was wearing had protected her from the worst of the bites and scratches. She clicked her tongue with annoyance as she saw that her favorite winter cloak had a long tear.

"Well, we're up," Dorian said, moving back to the camp to take the tent leathers down from the trees, "where is it we're going again?"

Astlyr pulled the map from a pack on Smoke's saddle. The big horse swung his head around for his usual pat on the nose, which she absently gave him as she studied the parchment. "An old elven holy place of some kind."

"Of course," Varric grumbled, going to help Dorian pick up the camp.

"Well, we are looking for an elven artifact," Astlyr said, squinting at the map. Cas stopped and peered around her shoulder. Astlyr moved so the woman could see.

"I think that pass should still be open," Cassandra pointed. "Even after the blizzard last night."

"Alright, we'll give it a try," Astlyr agreed, folding the map.

With the camp packed the group made their way. The pass which Cassandra had chosen was indeed negotiable though the snow was thick. The horses slipped and struggled, but the way was made. Cole popped ahead on several occasions to check for snags and icy patches.

Finally, cold an bedraggled, and so wearied that even Dorian had ceased complaining, they stood before a cave entrance. Astlyr checked the map. "This seems too obvious." she gave the cave mouth a scrutinizing once over. "Morrigan mentioned that there might be wards and other protections. The artifact we're looking for, if it is even still here, is supposed to be protected."

"Joy," Dorian stepped forward, magic glowing and coiling around his hands. He sent the magic surging and seeking. A few symbols glowed on the walls a short distance in. He grunted. "Simple wards. They probably get more complicated further in. We'll have to be cautious." He curled his hand into a fist and with a jerking motion the glowing wards vanished with a faint popping sound.

"Aren't we always?" Varric smirked, settling Bianca into place in his hands. He peered into the darkness. "Well...it isn't the deep roads I suppose."

"Count your blessings," Astlyr agreed with a smirk. She and her fellows took a moment to pull on armor. It was freezing, but worth the trouble after that arrow incident, Astlyr thought as she buckled her plate mail into place with practiced skill. "Alright, kids, formation time. Cole, stay back here with us. We don't need you getting ahead and hitting a ward you aren't ready for. Stay just behind Cas, Bull and I. Dorian, behind and to our right. Keep your magic going as best you can, checking for traps."

"Alright," the mage nodded. "Though I'll burn through mana I could be using to for attacking spells if there are undead or the like."

"Noted. We can handle a few undead," she nodded towards Cassandra, Iron Bull, and Varric. She indicated a spot for the dwarf, "behind us and to the left."

"Right," Varric nodded, taking his place.

"Are we ready?" Astlyr asked.

"As we'll ever be," Varric answered with a grim smile.

The going was slow. Even underground it was cold, and they shivered as they went. The way was dark as well. They had brought torches, which Dorian lit, but the light from the flames did not seem able to reach all the shadowed recesses of the tunnels as they traversed. Three times they had to stop so that Dorian could take down a barrier spell or ward that threatened their way. The cave itself seemed natural, not man-made, but there were sconces visible in some of the walls where ling ago torches had once been set.

It was clear, however, that no one had tread this path in a long time. Muck and dirt on the cave floor was deep and undisturbed by footfalls. Astlyr and Bull had the most difficulty negotiating the low, craggy ceiling. Once Bull caught his horns on a narrow place and Astlyr had to help him get free, much to the amusement of the others.

Perhaps three hours of traveling found the friends resting for a moment, leaning against the walls. "How are you holding up?" Astlyr questioned Dorian. He had dark circles forming under his eyes and his nose seemed to be constantly running.

"I'm getting low on mana," he admitted, pulling a blue potion free from his belt and downing it. He held up a hand and magic flickered around it. He sighed. "Keeping up a constant search for traps is tiring, I will admit."

"You're doing well," Cassandra reassured him. "I have seen lesser mages collapse when put to such a challenge."

"Well," Dorian straightened slightly, "I am exceedingly well bred to be the very best," he cut a regal posture, which was somewhat undermined by the layers of furs he wore.

"How far do you suppose this cave goes?" Astlyr wondered aloud. "We haven't come across any side paths that go more than a few feet."

"I don't know," Varric squinted into the gloom. "Maybe the artifact isn't even here any more."

"Cole, do you sense any pain memories?" Astlyr turned to the boy, who was, of course, the only one not looking weary. Cole handed a water skin to Iron Bull as he answered. "No. This place is quiet. All I hear is us."

"One would think if there is an ancient elven artifact in here that there might be some elven memories floating around," Cassandra pointed out.

"Maybe they're all happy memories," Iron Bull suggested, taking a swig on the water and passing it across to Varric.

"Yes, sure. Because happiness just follows us around," the dwarf said sarcastically as he had a drink and sent the water skin on.

"Well, we had best keep moving. I'm curious to see the back of this cave system if nothing else. These wards and barriers were put here by someone." Astlyr stood, glancing around at each face. None of her friends flagged, each rising and getting back into formation without complaint. She felt her heart tug. She could not ask for truer followers, and she hoped she could be worthy of them.

The group trudged on as time dragged, though Astlyr was uncertain how long they had walked. Her feet were beginning to blister, which was usually a good sign of the passage of hours. She was about to call for another rest when Dorian got her attention. "Strong wards up ahead," the mage said, edging forward carefully.

"I looks like the tunnel opens up," Cassandra squinted into the gloom, holding up her torch.

As the party drew cautiously forward they could all make out a cavern before them. It was not a large place, but did not have the same, naturally formed quality as the rest of the tunnels. The walls looked carved, the floor smoothed from its natural sate, though some stalagmites were forming as water dripped from the ceiling. In the center of the dark room Astlyr could just make out what appeared to be a table or alter made of stone. Upon it rested a nondescript shape. "Is that what we're looking for?" she asked, peering through the dim light and reaching shadows.

"It may be," Dorian said, stopping them all with his arm, "but there are powerful wards in this entry way. Watch." He searched around until he found a loose rock. This he tossed into the room. As soon as the rock passed through the arched doorway to the cave bright magic glowed all along the stone and a blast of magical flame burst into being, emanating from two runes near the top corners of the doorway. Where the twin jets of fire met in the middle they exploded spectacularly with roiling flames. The group stepped back as one. Astlyr felt the heat singe her cloak and eyebrows.

"Can you take those down?" Astlyr asked, scanning the symbols that lined the walls as they faded back to stillness.

Dorian coiled magic around himself, then sent it out, snaking free to slither experimentally out to the wards. His face took on a look of intense effort and concentration. After a moment he exhaled wearily and slumped back against the wall. His voice was breathless as he gave his report, "These wards are ancient, and are designed to gain power the more time that passes. A mage more skilled than I placed these, as much as it pains me to admit it."

Astlyr put a hand on his hunched shoulder. "Alright, you did well. Take a moment to catch your breath. We'll figure this out."

Dorian sat down on a protruding stone, looking glum and frustrated.

"So what now?" Varric asked, peering into the room at the lump on the stone slab, which were the only obvious furnishings.

"Dorian, were there wards inside the room, or just in the doorway?" Astlyr asked, turning to her mage friend.

"I only detected them in the doorway," Dorian answered, meeting her gaze with a baleful look.

"I know what you're thinking," Cole appeared at Astlyr's elbow, his expression eager. "I can help."

"Now, Cole, just wait," Astlyr said, turning to the boy. "There could still be traps inside. You need to be very careful!"

"What are you thinking?" Iron Bull asked.

"Cole can teleport in, right past the magical wards," Astlyr explained, "and grab that little thing on the alter. Then he can blink right back."

"It might work," Cassandra said, but her voice was uneasy, "though we have no idea what else might be waiting in there. If they put a ward this strong over the door, what could they have done to the inside?"

"Or maybe they knew their door block would be good enough to stop just about anyone," Varric pointed out. He unslung Bianca from his back. "Here's let's try this." He fired a bolt into the room. The fire wards reacted for a moment as the bolt passed, then went still. The bolt clattered against the stone table and bounced off, hitting the floor. Everything was perfectly still as the group leaned forward, tensely watching. Nothing stirred.

"I can do it," said Cole, his wan face bright, "I can go get it and come right back. Don't worry."

"I worry," Cassandra mumbled, her dark eyes sharp with suspicion. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"It's all we have at the moment," Astlyr sighed, her shoulders slumping. "We'll table that for now. Keep thinking, everyone."

"I can do it," Cole said again, hands balling into determined fists at his sides he vanished.

"Cole, NO!" Astlyr shouted, grabbing at the air where the boy had been only seconds before. The group turned to look into the room. He was standing before the altar, seemingly unharmed. "I'm inside," he called back to them, holding his body very still. "I found an idol. A little frog, I think. Should I bring it?"

"As long as he is already out there, he may as well bring it back," Astlyr assented as everyone looked uncertainly to her.

"I'll bring it back, then," said Cole. He reached out and took hold of the idol. There was a distant thunk and clank from somewhere in the depths of stone around them. Then a metallic sliding sound and Cole cried out.

"COLE!" Astlyr yelled, trying to see what had happened. She held out her torch as far as she dared. The boy was still standing, but stiffly, in the attitude of one reaching for something.

"Astlyr," Cole whimpered, "I can't move."

"Shit! Cole, we're coming!" Astlyr shouted. "Cas, with me! Dorian, I want you to blast us with an ice spell while we do this. Bull, you get Cole out." Iron Bull nodded, taking up a position behind the two women. Dorian stood, looking baffled for a moment, but his face cleared as Astlyr continued. "Alright Cas, the fire seemed to come from those wards near the ceiling. We have to prevent the blasts from meeting in the middle." the qunari woman made certain the straps of her shield were snug, and she gave a nod to her human counterpart.

"Ready," Cassandra's jaw was set, her eyes fearless.

"Go!" Astlyr stepped into the doorway, Cassandra doing the same at her side. The fire roared down onto them. It pushed her back slightly as she held her shield up against it. The heat was almost unbearable as it lapped around her shield and clawed at her body. But she could feel the creeping ice coiling around her as Dorian hit both women with his best cold magic. The ice melted almost at once, but he kept showering it onto them.

"Go, Bull!" Dorian said, his voice very strained.

Iron Bull charged in between Astlyr and Cassandra. Flames lapped at him, but not enough to stop the juggernaut as he surged towards the still form of Cole. As he moved, spikes shot up from the floor, grazing his legs and feet. Astlyr heard one ping off of the metal cuff he wore around one ankle. Bull little noticed as more spike slashed at him, almost impaling his foot.

"Hurry!" Cassandra pleaded, her whole body braced behind her shield, the ice around her body struggling valiantly against the flames.

Bull hesitated as he took in Cole's situation, then he lifted the boy straight upwards. Cole gave a cry of pain at the motion. _Please, Maker, or old gods, or whoever, let him be alright!_ Astlyr thought desperately as she pushed back against the mage-fire that bit at her. She could feel her shield heating almost beyond her ability to bear. She chomped down on her lip until she knew it was bleeding. Iron Bull charged past the women, Cole cradled in his arms. Astlyr gratefully stepped back and the flames died. She unstrapped her shield with two quick motions, shaking the steaming metal from herself.

Dorian slumped back, gasping for breath. Bull knelt, resting Cole's head against his legs. "Those spikes you saw," Bull explained hurriedly as the friends gathered around the fallen boy, "As soon as Cole touched the idol one came up through his hand, and another got his leg."

Astlyr glanced down. There was a neat hole through the bottom of the spirit boy's calf, and another where the spike had exited near the bone. "We need to stop the bleeding," Varric knelt, grabbing bandages from his pack.

Astlyr pulled her charred sleeve and a large chunk came away. She grabbed Cole's injured hand, squeezing it with the cloth to put pressure on the puncture, which leaked dark red. Cole whimpered. "It's alright," Astlyr soothed, meeting his smokey eyes. "It's alright, we've got you."

"I know," Cole spoke haltingly as he panted for air, "I know, Astlyr. You're helping me. When you help things are alright. It just h-hurts."

"I know, sweet heart," Astlyr stroked Cole's hair back with her free hand. Cole gasped as Varric firmly pressed bandages to his punctured leg. "Easy," Astlyr soothed.

"You're burned," Cole reached with his uninjured hand towards a red mark on Astlyr's neck.

"No, no, Cole," she almost smiled. "We're taking care of you now. Be still."

Cole settled at her words, seemingly concentrating on making it easy for his friends to help him. Aside from rapid breathing and the occasional small sound of pain, he made no complaint. Astlyr kept her hand resting lightly his forehead as her friends worked, tightly bandaging both hand and leg. Dorian rallied and joined them, pouring what little healing magic he possessed into the mix.

"I got it," when Cole spoke again his voice was quieter.

"What?" Astlyr leaned down.

"The idol. I got it." Cole fished into his belt pouch with his uninjured hand and pulled a small object free. It was about as big as Astlyr's fist, made of green stone and shaped like a frog with its mouth open, froggy head tilted back as though about to strike its tongue out at a fly.

She smiled, feeling her lip tremble slightly, "Oh Cole, you did so well," she said.

He grinned thinly up at her. "I helped."

"You did," she rubbed his cheek with her thumb.

"We need to get him back to Skyhold," Varric said, concern on his weathered features.

Astlyr felt Dorian tilt her chin to see the burn on her neck. He sent a little ice magic to sooth it, but he shook his head. "Both you and Cas could use some attention as well. Bull?"

"A few cuts, nothing serious," the big qunari said. He had been sitting still as a statue with Cole leaned against him, as though he feared if he moved the boy would shatter.

"We've got what we came for," Cassandra stood with a stiff groan, picking up her own shield, which she too had tossed aside. The front was slightly deformed by the blast of heat it had withstood. "At least I hope so. We should head back."

Astlyr nodded, trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind. "Give him to me," she held out her arms. Bull helped get Cole into them. The boy made a small sound of pain, but cooperated as best he could. His good hand gripped Astlyr's armor tightly.

"Astlyr," Cole mumbled to her, "I can feel your worry for me. I will be alright. The bleeding has stopped, and you all are taking good care of me. Do not worry."

Astlyr smiled down at him as she began to walk, Iron Bull carrying her shield for her. "I would stop if I could, Cole. Sometimes we simply have to worry. It's alright. Once we get you back to the Skyhold healers, then maybe I'll stop. Until then, try not to think about it."

She felt Cole rest his head against her shoulder and she carried him as gently as she could. Once outside the horses were summoned and she put Cole on Smoke ahead of herself, her arms wrapped around him in case he should he pass out, so he would not fall. Only one hand guided the reins, as Cassandra took the lead and Smoke willingly followed. Astlyr tucked her cloak in around them, though she knew Cole did not feel the bright cold of the day.

"Astlyr," Cole spoke again, his voice hoarse.

"What is it, Cole?" she tilted her head down to hear him better.

"I have never felt anything like that before."

"What do you mean?"

"When Bull carried me back to to the group I felt everyone's worry...for me. I have felt so much of people's concern and pain, but never so much concentrated on me before. I...I liked the feeling."

She gave him a careful squeeze. "We're all your friends now, Cole. You'll be getting that feeling from us a lot more."

Though she could not see his face, she could tell he was pleased as he rested against her. Astlyr heaved a weary sigh. This mission had not gone as she had hoped. She needed to stop getting her people injured. She glanced down at the pack on her hip where the frog idol was hidden. Dorian had given it a magical once-over to ensure it was not cursed, and he found nothing. Still, Astlyr was not certain she liked the way the jade eyes seemed to stare. She hoped that Morrigan would have some answers once they reached home. Home. Skyhold. It had been a long time since she had considered a place to be her home. After she had left her family's house in the Free Marches she had wandered, worked as a mercenary, searched for meaning. Perhaps she had found that meaning in Skyhold. How long it would last, she tried not to think about, for she had learned that nothing in her life was permanent.

The horses trudged onward through the deep snow as the winter sun showed itself to warm the weary backs of the adventurers.


	6. Chapter 6

**Part 6**

**Choices and Reunions**

The weather in Skyhold was turning. Astlyr noticed it as she and her people rode back across the long bridge which was the main point of access. The air still held the wintry bite that it had in Emprise De Leon. She noticed that carts were parked beside the doors to the kitchens. Nearby farmers selling winter supplies to the fortress, as it looked as though Skyhold was going to remain occupied for some time.

"What happened?!" Cullen rushed to meet them, even as a young stable-hand took the reigns of Astlyr's mount. Josie followed behind the warrior, a look of concern on her delicate features. "The guards on the walls saw you coming, but we didn't know you'd have wounded." Cullen held up his good arm and Astlyr let Cole slide down to him. Cullen pulled the spirit boy's arm over his shoulder, bearing much of Cole's weight as Astlyr dismounted.

"I will be fine," the spirit boy reassured Cullen at once.

"I'm certain you will be," the warrior gave the boy a quick smile before he cast concerned eyes over the group.

"Astlyr and Cassandra are burned," Cole reported, helpfully as Astlyr took him into her arms again and began carrying him towards the hold, followed by the others. "Iron Bull has wounds on his legs and Dorian is exhausted."

"Apparently I'm fine," Varric said with mock annoyance.

"You _are_ fine, except you are worried about me and the others," said Cole, turning to look over Astlyr's shoulder at the procession following them.

As they passed the farm carts on the way to the infirmary Astlyr gave them a glancing once over. The produce looked to be good quality, and she hoped that the cook was bartering a decent price for them. Not that Skyhold was destitute, but Astlyr had spent much of her life with only a few coppers to rub together, so she was ever vigilant for good bargaining. She also hoped that they were storing up enough food. There was no telling how many would stay in the fortress over the winter. She knew many of the mages she had liberated already planned to stay, especially with the new research tower that was nearing completion. It would serve as both quarters and college for the magcially gifted of the fortress and surrounding lands.

"Maker bless us!" the head healer, whose name was Audra, looked up from her desk as Cole and the others came in. She was a short, slender woman, with close cut blond hair and fierce eyes. She commanded her infirmary with the skill of a military leader. Two novice healers rushed to help lower the injured spirit boy onto the bed.

"I see he didn't happen to wake up while we were gone," Astlyr looked over to where where the elven man lay. She could just make out the steady rising and falling of his narrow chest.

Myfanway stood and looked the sorry adventurers over. "Did you find the artifact?"

"Yes," Astlyr said, a little annoyed at the elf's clear priorities, "at at no small cost to my men." She reached into her pouch and pulled out of the frog statue. She willingly passed it to Myfanwy, who eyed it with as much distrust as Astlyr felt around it.

"Mmnnnh," Cole made a sound which Astlyr thought was pain as the healers unwound his bandages to put on fresh. But the boy seemed to have forgotten his wounds and was staring at the frog.

"What is it, Cole?" Astlyr asked, as a young apprentice healer ushered her to a bed beside Cas. The other woman was already having salve applied to several impressive burns. Astlyr winced to look at them. Her natural Qunari toughness had protected her from the brunt of what Cassandra had suffered. She shot an apprizing glance at the rest of her team. Dorian had been placed in a chair by the fire, covered in a blanket, and had a warm drink pressed into his hands. He gave her a nod to confirm that he was alright. Bull had sustained deeper cuts than he had let on, and he sat quietly as an intimidated looking man pressed poultices onto the wounds.

Cole seemed to be staring down the statue, "I didn't notice it in the cave," he admitted. "I was distracted. I'm sorry."

"Cole, there were spikes sticking through parts of your body. You were allowed to be distracted," Astlyr reassured the boy.

"That thing...it seems wrong. I can feel sadness. Like a cloud of smoke. Like death. Maybe many deaths. It sticks, like oil," a look of concentration came over his thin face, "I did not mean to come here. Why am I here? No. No, I do not want this! No, this is a mistake! Please let me go!" When he finished he was almost screaming the words and Cullen had to snap him out of it by grabbing his arm, though gently.

"Well, that sounded reassuring," Astlyr said, eying the statue. Myfanwy had set it down and stepped back from it, arms folded. "That was a very strong feeling, Cole."

"A memory, still clinging to the idol," Cole clarified as the healers finished their bandaging. At once the pale young man made as if to move.

"Wait now," Cullen held him back, "where do you think you're going?"

"Cassandra is in pain. I can help," the spirit boy explained, matter-of-factly.

"Cole, I am alright," the warrior woman reassured him. "The healers are doing a good job,"

A healer was finishing applying a cooling salve to Astlyr's neck where she had been burned. "Would you remove your shirt ma'am?"

Astlyr did so without second thought as she pondered the idol. Like Cassandra she bound herself down with strips of cloth. No good having feminine parts flopping around during battle. Both women had tough bodies with hard muscle and a patchwork of scars, though Astlyr was slightly more impressive, being a qunari. She had far fewer burns on her torso than Cas had sustained, and none were serious. Cassandra's worst burns were on her arms and one on her cheek.

Cole allowed Cullen to press him back onto the bed. He still watched his fellows with obvious concern. Varric walked over and prodded the idol with a crossbow bolt. "Did we just bring home something else potentially evil?"

"Possibly," Astlyr admitted, her brows coming together. "We need Morrigan down here."

"I'll get someone to fetch her," Josephine said, turning to the door.

"So, what did happen to you? You obviously succeeded in your mission, but what's this about a cave and spikes? Clearly there was also fire involved," Cullen looked from one party member to the next.

Some of the guards drew closer to hear the tale of the adventure as well. They were clearly eager to hear it first hand, so they could share it with their friends at the end of their shift. Perhaps they would brag that they heard it from the Inquisitor herself. Astlyr made certain to make eye contact with the guards as she related the events, so they would feel included. This seemed to cheer them immensely and some even mustered the courage to ask a question or two.

By the time the beautiful mage reached the infirmary Astlyr's party was bandaged, rehydrate and warmed. Dorian especially looked much healthier when he was offered a few fresh biscuits from the kitchens. His usual energy seemed to be returning and he walked over to join the main group, which were gathered around the bed of the elf (save Cole, who lay still in his own bed, watching).

"Is this the artifact you were looking for?" Astlyr asked, holding up the frog.

Morrigan took the object and her eyes grew wide with a cat-like look of excitement which made Astlyr more than a little uneasy. "This is it indeed," the mage smiled. "This is an item of great power. If used properly it can even restore a god."

"You seem certain that a god is what we have here," Cassandra said, as a healer helped her into a loose cotton shirt. "I have heard tales of demons causing people to fall asleep. Then the demon drains their energy as they slumber, whither, and eventually die. Are we about to give power to something like that?"

Several of the guards looked suddenly wary and hands strayed to sword hilts and staves.

"If it is a demon, I am certain we can contain it," Morrigan said, with much more reassurance than anyone else seemed to feel.

"He is not a demon," Myfanwy asserted, clearly weary of constantly reassuring everyone of this. She glared at the untrusting faces then turned to Morrigan with eagerness. "How do we use it?"

"It is quite simple," Morrigan brought the idol over to the bed where the supposed Fen'Harel lay. She pulled over a chair and set the frog on it. Her hands sparked with magic. It reflected her in her yellow, dragon-like eyes. Astlyr could not help but envision the creature that Morrigan could transform into. Crouched like a cat, massive wings folded as it hungrily looked over its prey. "I will activate the idol with magic and..." Morrigan sent the grasping fingers of a spell towards the idol. It shimmered bright green. Fade green, Astlyr recognized, leaning forward with curious anticipation, even as her hand clasped on her sword hilt. Then there was a glimmer in front of the frog, and as they all watched, a miniature Fade rift opened, hovering before the open mouth of the statue.

"What the hell?" Varric exhaled.

"Is this dangerous?" Astlyr asked, her hand prickling as she felt her mark activate. It was eager to seal the tiny rift, as she had so many times with the large ones that had covered the continent.

"The rift cannot grow any larger," Morrigan reassured them. Still, most of the healers and Fen'Harel's guard detail backed away, looking towards Astlyr for reassurance. This was her area of expertise after all.

"So what does it do with the little rift?" asked Cassandra, her sharp features bound in a suspicious expression. She had already drawn her own blade, which had been sheathed beside her on a bed, and the keen metal reflected the emerald light.

"The idol will pull power from the Fade and then go where I command it." Morrigan explained as though she thought them a little slow.

"And you will command it to go to him, right Morrigan?" Astlyr questioned, pulling off her glove to bear her anchor marked hand. She knew that the mage had a lust for power. The second Morrigan made a move to do something besides give the energy to the young man on the bed, Astlyr knew she could close her fingers and seal the tiny rift. She could sense how easy it would be, after all her experience with larger ones.

"No spirits will come through?" asked Dorian.

"Oh, of course they will. Where do you think the power comes from?" Morrigan sounded pleased. "Spirits are drawn to the idol and it devours them, then passes their energy on."

"It kills them?" Cole's voice was sharp and already had an edge to it. Astlyr shot the boy a glance before turning her attention back to the idol.

"Does it kill the spirits that come through?" Astlyr asked.

"It devours them, so I imagine they are dead. Or more accurately, destroyed." Morrigan said, with a tinge of annoyance to her voice. It was clear she was eager to begin.

"But good spirits could die!" Cole gasped.

"The majority of spirits in the Fade are what we would consider evil, or perhaps troublesome," Morrigan said in a calming tone, "There is a chance that a spirit such as kindness or wisdom may be devoured as well, but it is a risk we must take to waken our god-friend."

"No, Astlyr, don't let her!" Cole begged, scooting to the side of his bed and trying to rise. As soon as he had achieved his feet his wounded leg gave out under him and he crumpled to the floor.

Dorian reached Cole first, helping the boy up and back onto the bed. The spirit sat on the edge of the mattress, staring at Astlyr with a look so intense she was certain she could feel it in her chest. She stepped back a pace, "no. I don't think so. I cannot kill a good spirit, even by accident."

"You are being foolish," Morrigan snapped. "Do you want this man awakened or not?"

"He can wake up on his own. I won't kill spirits," Astlyr said, fiercely. She held out her hand, felt the familiar jab on pain in her palm as a green tendril sliced through the air like lightning and connected with the tiny Fade rift. All it took was the twitch of her fingers and a gentle motion of her wrist to close it. "I'm sorry," she said, addressing the assemblage as a whole. "I put us through a lot of trouble for nothing. Someone call Dagna to collect this artifact. Perhaps she can study how it works and help us come up with a new strategy for waking Fen'Harel."

Myfanwy's face was twisted in anger, but she seemed to be biting her own tongue to keep silent. Astlyr was not certain what the elf might have tried, had she not been surrounded by such intimidating company. A few of the guards muttered confused remarks, but for the most part the others seemed to agree with her decision.

"I didn't like the idea of pumping that thing full of power, dead spirits or no," Cassandra admitted.

"Astlyr doesn't want spirits to die," Cole said, his voice was firm and hinted at admiration.

"I spent a good deal of time talking with Solas about spirits and the Fade," Astlyr said. "he told me that it is affected by our world. That good spirits are growing few because the power of our hate, our greed, our malice, it bleeds in. I can't risk what good remains on the chance that we will only kill evil spirits."

"You are foolish," Morrigan said, though she seemed resigned. "May I join your artificer in the study of the idol?"

Astlyr did not like the idea of the witch having access to something so powerful, but she was uncertain how to articulate this. "I don't trust her. She seeks power. Like a hungry calling clawing at her belly. She always wants what is just beyond her reach." Cole filled in.

"If that is how you feel," Morrigan had a smirk on her lips, but she dipped her head in ascent. "I can be patient. If you have a need to waste my time again, you know where I will be," she turned and left the room with her elegant, unhurried gait.

Astlyr winced, "you aren't very diplomatic, Cole. Then again, neither am I." She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck and looking down at the idol. Her eyes drifted to the elvish man on the bed. She had not looked at him closely since the day he had taken in whatever spirit resided in the dead bird. She made a quick study of his features. Delicate and pale, the sign of a pure-blooded elf. His eyes were closed so she could not see if they were as green as she remembered. The young man's dark curls fell over a face clear of the elvish tattoos. He looked small in the bed, but there was still a life to his features, as though he slumbered lightly. As if any second his dark lashes would part and he would waken. Out of curiosity she snapped her fingers in front of his face, but he did not flinch. His expression remained passive and still. Perfect repose.

"Maybe a handsome prince needs to kiss him. Like in the old tales," Varric said, obviously trying to lighten the mood. A few guards chuckled nervously.

"We'll figure out how to wake him," Astlyr reassured a still glaring Myfanwy. "A way that doesn't kill anyone."

A mage came in to take the idol to Dagna, who had set herself up with a research station in the new tower.

Astlyr and her friends enjoyed a meal which was brought to them in the infirmary. Then Josie pressured Astlyr to get some of her mounting paperwork finished. The qunari retired to her quarters and gave it her best effort, but she was worn out from the day, and her bandages were already starting to itch, and she was just too irritable to focus. She slumped back her in her chair as her eyes grew heavier. Outside the sun was settling down amongst the mountains, bathing the snow in red like blood, inching over the land. Astlyr knew it was early to go to bed, with the day light hours growing shorter, but her chin slumped to her chest and her eyelids became too heavy for her to possibly manage.

"_Fen'Harel, where are you?" She considered whistling, the way she would have called for her old hound, Dash. She slapped her leg without thinking, "Come here, Fen'Harel." She stopped herself. She had probably dishonored him and now he would never come to her._

_This time as she walked and looked for her canine dream companion she was wading in shallow, blackish water. It was cold, and unpleasant, and she shuddered at the creeping feeling of it soaking up her legs. Almost like grasping, icy hands. She made sure to keep moving. There were no rocks to settle on now. Only water and sad, twisted little trees with no leaves. If she focused on the trees for too long they began to look more like bodies, propped upright in positions of abject agony. The Fade was such a cheerful place._

_Then she heard it. The roar of a dragon. She looked around but there was nowhere to hide, and she had no weapons. She still wore the simple, unfamiliar garb she always seemed to be wearing in the Fade these days. The dragon sounded close, so much so that she could hear the beating of its wings. She began to run, eyes desperately seeking cover. Though part of her mind knew that this was only a dream, and her body was safe at Skyhold, her instincts ran wild here. Taking control and leading her on._

_The dragon's roar echoed in her head and she cast her gaze upward, certain it was right above her, but she saw nothing. Then she saw it. It appeared before her with a suddenness that made her trip as she struggled to stop running. She landed on all fours in the cold water before the beast. It shimmered like light on glass, wavering as though it was made of smoke. It blinked huge, yellow eyes at her. Then it reared back its head and laughed. She had never heard a dragon laugh, and in the Fade everything sounded wrong. She found herself unable to rise , even as she jerked her hands free of the grasping waters._

_Her hand glowed green and stabbed with a familiar pain. And the wolf was beside her. He stood, blue eyes narrowed as he watched the dragon. He did not seem afraid, but scrutinized the creature, his velvety ears pinned back. Astlyr instinctively reached out to touch the wolf. Her hand was clumsy and she grabbed a handful of his thick fur. He did not seem to mind, but turned to look at her. Then his pink tongue emerged and he licked her on the cheek._

_The dragon stopped laughing._

Knock knock knock, "Ma'am, are you in there? Inquisitor Adaar?"

Astlyr work with a jerk. A piece of paper was stuck to her cheek with drool. She hurried grabbed it away and blinked as the new morning lit her rooms. "Owww," she grumbled, straightening with a palm to her lower back. Why the hell did she let herself fall asleep in her chair? She was already fast forgetting the laughing dragon and the wolf of her dreams.

"Ma'am?" called the voice outside her door again.

"Yes, I'm here. Come in, it's unlocked." Astlyr shouted as she made an effort to pull a few wrinkles from her shirt. She glanced at a mirror and groaned in dismay. There were words on her cheek where the ink had left its mark.

A guardswoman came in and clearly stifled a chuckle at her leader's disheveled state. Astlyr wiped furiously at her cheek with a rag, dampened with morning-cold water from her basin. "Yes?" she asked, trying to sound serious, and failing. She knew she looked ridiculous. Some intimidating qunari she was, with white hair tangled and messy and ink all over her face.

The guard's eyes twinkled with mirth as she spoke, "The healers have asked for you. Your bandages need changing and they also wanted to ask you a favor."

"Alright," Astlyr said. Having wiped away the last of the black ink she ripped a brush through her stick straight, waist length hair and bundled it into a hasty bun. The guard watched, standing politely just inside the door. "Is it difficult?" she asked after a moment, "putting your hair up with the horns in the way?"

Astlyr pondered this. She did have to moved carefully to avoid them, and sometimes a strand or two would become wound around a horn and take forever to untangle. "I suppose. I've always had horns, so I hardly notice."

"I see," the guardswoman nodded, a pleasant smile on her homely features. She turned and began escorting Astlyr out of the room.

"You're the same guard who fetched me the other night," Astlyr recognized as they walked. "When Sera was having her...meltdown."

"I was," the guardswoman looked pleased to be recognized.

"What's your name?" Astlyr questioned. Iron Bull had once taken her to secretly speak with some of her people one night, to show her the importance of everyone around her. Astlyr had decided to make an effort to know them better. As Verric would say, 'everyone has a story.'

"Jones, Ma'am. Esther Jones." the guard answered.

"You've a Ferelden accent, Esther Jones."

"Yes Ma'am. Born and bred in Redcliff. Why I even have a few memories of the blight, though mostly its the undead that I recall best."

"It always seems to be undead doesn't it," Astlyr joked.

"It does," the guard nodded, knowingly. "I caught sight of the Hero of Ferelden though." she had a proud look in her eyes.

"Did you?" Astlyr was impressed.

"Indeed. I was holed up in a house with the other women and children, but I saw her. She was a fierce fighter that one. And she had a qunari beside her, though he didn't have any horns."

"Really?" Astlyr had never seen a qunari without horns, but Iron Bull had mentioned them once.

"Yes, Ma'am, and he fought beside her as though they were blood kin. Like each could predict the other's movements."

"That is impressive," Astlyr agreed, trying to think if there was anyone she fought with who could do the same with her. Solas, she thought bitterly. She recalled how she always seemed to know where he was on the field, even as she was in the thick and he was hanging back to cast. How he knew exactly which spell she needed him to use in any given moment.

Her face must have looked melancholy because the guardswoman asked, "are you alright Ma'am?"

"Yes," Astlyr composed her features again as they neared the infirmary. "Just remembering old times."

"Well, times are better now, thanks to you and yours," the woman smiled. She had tough, worn features with a few scars. Her straw colored hair was mostly concealed by her helmet, but a few strands had gotten free and framed her face. Astlyr wondered if the guardswoman had a husband, or children.

"You and the guards have helped a great deal," Astlyr reassured her new friend. "Without you there is no Skyhold, just a bunch of weirdos hiding in a broken fort."

This made Guardswoman Jones laugh. Astlyr let herself laugh too. It felt good, refreshing. Things had been so serious lately. The two had reached the infirmary and Astlyr bid the guard goodbye. Was it her imagination or did there seem to be a new spring in the woman's stride as she walked away?

"Now, master Cole, you must remain in your bed! You are doing your leg more harm than good moving about like that."

"I want to help."

Astlyr pushed open the door. Head healer Audra was standing over the young man, who was laying on top of his covers and looking agitated. "What's going on?" Astlyr questioned, striding into the large room.

"Ah, Inquisitor," Audra looked up, "I'm glad you're here. Did the guard I sent tell you I needed a favor?"

"She did," Astlyr replied, taking in the pleasant room. It was mostly empty, but a few new wounded had been brought in, as well as a child. There were not many children in Skyhold, but more than there had been before the war. Word had gone out that refugees were welcome in the fortress.

The healer followed Astlyr's gaze, "a new family just came in. They were attacked by wolves on their way. A few bites were infected, but are healing nicely now, and the little one has a stubborn cough. The real trouble is your friend here," she gestured to Cole.

"What's he done?" Astlyr fixed her eyes back on the spirit boy, who was hiding his face beneath his wide hat brim.

"He won't stay put," Audra planted hands on her hips. "Keeps doing that 'poofing' thing and trying to help the new wounded. Except his leg should not have weight on it, and I keep telling him that, but the second I turn away there he is, standing beside one bed or another."

"Cole," Astlyr folded her arms, "you have to do what the healers tell you or your leg won't mend."

"I want to help them," Cole said quietly, looking across the room at the family.

"I know," Astlyr sighed. "But you need to help yourself for a little while," she thought for a moment. "Wait, Cole, didn't you tell me that you don't hear other people's pain so much when you are higher up?"

"Yes," he finally tilted his head to look up at her.

"How about this? I'll put him in my quarters, at least for today, so he can focus on getting better." She knew from past experience that the spirit boy healed much more quickly than an ordinary human. The hole through his leg and hand might only take him a week to repair themselves, with proper attention.

"Would that suit you, Master Cole?" Audra asked, tilting her head down to see under his hat. Astlyr knew the workers in the infirmary had a real soft spot for the spirit of compassion. He helped them a great deal under normal circumstances.

"I suppose," Cole seemed disappointed, but willing.

Astlyr pondered for a moment, wondering if she could let Cole put his arm over her shoulder, but their height difference was too great for them to easily move that way. She had just resolved to carry him again when he teleported away. She rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. "That settles that," she grinned. "What did the family think of him?" she asked the the healer beckoned for her to sit so her bandages could be changed.

"The mother and father are still asleep, but the child thinks he's quite entertaining," the woman chuckled. "I suppose the boy will forget him though. I used to forget him too, when we first met. At least, that's what he tells me. But then he decided I should remember."

"How do you come by such friends?" Myfanwy asked. She was still sitting at her post on the bed beside her slumbering deity.

"Good luck I suppose," Astlyr said, recalling how the boy had appeared, helping someone, as she would come to find he always did when he was able.

"There you are. All nice and fresh," Audra said, stepping back from her work on Astlyr's burns. "No sign of infection, so you'll be good as new in no time at all."

"How are the rest of my team?" Astlyr questioned as she stood.

"Mending. Some faster than others," the healer said. "No infections, but Seeker Cassandra did get herself some cruel burns. Your Dorian is as fit as they come, however. All he needed was some warming, a few mana potions, and a good nights rest. Iron Bull hasn't been in yet, but I suspect he is doing well. You Qunari are so resilient."

"That we are," Astlyr agreed. "I'm going to go check on Cole. Thank you for your time," she dipped her head.

The healer waved her off, "T'was only doing my job, Ma'am."

Astlyr went back to her room and found that Cole was indeed there, sitting on her bed and looking contemplative. He saw her come in and gave her a thin smile. "I don't mean to be trouble for the healers,"

"You're not," Astlyr reassured him, walking over and pulling aside some blankets to put them over him.

"I do not get cold, Astlyr. I don't need blankets," he reminded her.

"They're for me," she said, resolutely tucking him in, "so I feel like I'm helping."

Cole watched her for a moment, then nodded, "I understand."

"Will you stay here today?" Astlyr sat on the side of the bed, satisfied with her tucking.

"I will try," the boy replied. He reached up with his good hand and removed his hat, setting it beside him on her bed. She seldom saw him without it. It seemed as though he was removing some token of office. His hair was messy and just at the length where it might fall into his eyes, which was seemingly the most it would ever grow. The sun from her tall windows made the pale hair glow golden. She resisted the urge to brush it back from his face feeling silly for the thought. She had never been fond of children, nor had she pondered having some of her own, but her pull to the spirit boy was decidedly motherly and that knowledge made her feel awkward.

Cole looked at her, his brows came together as though he was concentrating very hard, "Mother smells of wood violets and sweat. She chopped the wood alongside father and was always so strong. Strong arms to hold and to carry and to fight. Her horns were beautiful. Mine look like hers and it makes me proud. They died of the fever, mother and father both. She was not strong enough in the end."

Astlyr looked down into Cole's pale eyes, remembering. She had dug their graves herself. Her hands twitched recalling the shovel, heavy with earth, against her palms. She had gotten the fever too, but had easily recovered. They had not. She had been old enough to leave home, and in truth had been pondering doing so, but she had stayed to help them. Two qunari alone in the wilds, raising up a fine young daughter.

"You loved them," said Cole, in his usual, factual tone.

"I did," she nodded. "I still do." Thinking of them seldom brought her sadness. They had been good, if firm handed parents. She could not have asked for better.

"Thank you for letting me use your room," Cole said. "It is quieter up here." he looked around her sunlit quarters. "Though it will be cold for you here in the winter. This room is poorly insulated."

She laughed quietly at his keen observations, "fortunately I like it a bit cold. And you are welcome, Cole. Any time...just so long as you remember to knock."

He nodded. On a whim she got up and walked to her bookshelf. She did not keep many books, as she had never been much of a reader as a child. She preferred to be romping in the fields and climbing trees. She did have a few of Varric's novels and one history book which detailed the adventures of the Hero of Fereldan. This she selected and return to Cole, handing it to him.

He opened it on his lap and even gave her a smile, "thank you," he said in that emphatic way of his. She couldn't stop a fond smile from reaching her own lips.

"I'll send someone up to check on you in a bit," she said, "if I don't come myself."

"I will be fine," he said, already intent on his book.

"I know," she said, "but I'll have someone check just the same. Like the blankets, it's more for me than you."

"Alright," Cole met her eyes one more time before returning his attention to the book.

She turned and began making her way back down into the keep. She intended to stop out at the stables and give Smoke a good brushing after their recent adventures. The horse needed some affection. Just as she had gathered the brushes and was heading towards his stall something caught her attention. The gates to Skyhold were opening. She suspected it was another shipment of goods for the winter, but instead two figures walked into the keep. The guards around them looked baffled and Astlyr dropped her armload of horse brushes. "Solas," the name escaped her lips in a tiny gasp.

She ran over to him, she wasn't even ashamed, "Solas?!" she shouted this time.

The elf turned to her and gave her a big smile, which wrinkled the corners of his eyes in that familiar way. She stopped a few paces from him, taking him in with astonishment, "Hello, Astlyr," he said.

"Where were you? What happened? Why haven't you contacted us?!" she blurted before she could stop herself.

"Shall I fetch Commander Cullen, Ma'am?" called one of the wall guards, looking uncertain.

"Yes," Astlyr said, her voice a little too loud. "Fetch everyone! Tell them Solas is back!" she turned to her friend once again, not letting him get a word in edgewise, "Are you injured? Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Should we retire to the tavern? " she stopped herself.

"I am sorry," he raised a hand as though to stall her flow of questions. His expression was still good natured as ever, "I cannot stay long. My companion and I have come seeking your aid, old friend." he gestured to the elf that was beside him. Astlyr had never seen him before. He was leaner than Solas, he had angular face and quick, clever eyes, and a hungry look. His skin, like Solas' was unmarked by elven tattoos. She pondered this. Perhaps it was no longer the fashion to wear them? "This is Celwydd. He is...an old friend of mine."

"You are welcome here as a friend of Solas'," Astlyr nodded to the newcomer.

He did not speak, but returned her nod with a tilt of his head. His eyes roved over Skyhold, never still. If Astlyr was honest this Celwydd made her a little nervous. She pressed on, "Will you not take your rest for a moment?" she asked, giving her small friend's shoulder a playful shake, as she had used to do after a good battle. Rather than smiling and laughing, as he had done at this gesture in the past, he looked down at her hand on his arm as though it might be covered in mud. Astlyr pulled her hand back, feeling awkward. "At least tell me what became of you. We had no word. You just vanished. I had my people scouring the land for you. I was worried."

"Were you?" Solas seemed genuinely curious at this statement.

"Of course," she said, "You're my friend and you vanished without a goodbye. Of course I was concerned."

"I...had business," Solas looked a bit sad for a moment. "The orb was destroyed, and I had to deal with the repercussions of that. But I am here now, and I need your help again, my friend."

The rest of Astlyr's company came hurrying up then. "Maker's breath, it is him!" Cullen reached them first and his eyes went wide.

Celwydd tensed, reaching for a long, elegant sword he wore at his hip. Solas reached out and stayed his hand, "easy now, these are my friends," his eyes drifted across the assembling group. "But where are Warden Blackwall and Lady Vivienne?"

"Blackwall is helping with the rebuilding efforts in the Hinterlands," Astlyr explained as her friends came forward to shake hands with (and in some cases attempt to hug) their long lost elven companion. "Viv went back to the court. She's keeping an eye on the empress, as best she can. It's still a bit touch and go in Orlais. Especially with our new Divine on the sunburst throne."

"You have been busy," Solas said, looking impressed.

"Solas has returned seeking our help," Astlyr hurried to explain to the gathered group.

"Doesn't everyone?" Varric snarked, though Astlyr could tell the dwarf too was glad to see Solas again.

"And you are leaving immediately?" Josephine looked concerned. "You are barely recovered from your last mission. Can't it wait?" she addressed Solas with the question.

"The matter for which I seek your aid is quite time sensitive," Solas said. He wore a placating expression, then turned his eyes back to Astlyr.

She remembered the last time he had specifically asked for her help. A spirit friend of his had been in dire need. The spirit had not survived and she knew it had hurt Solas deeply. She recalled the pain in his usually gentle eyes as he had killed the foolish mages in retribution. She had let him. It was hardly her place to decide if they should be spared. He had spoken to her afterward and their bond of friendship had been cemented in those moments. In those moments she had decided that she would always watch over him, as he had for her in those days in Haven. Now she met his gaze and was struck by an odd feeling. A feeling of coldness where warmth should be.

She shook the feeling from her mind. It had been some time since she had seen him, and there was no telling how many hardships he had faced since. "Of course we'll help," she said. "Let us gather supplies and we'll leave as soon as we can." She turned to her assembled company, "none of you are required to join us. I only ask for volunteers."

"I wouldn't miss it," Iron Bull laughed, throwing his arm around Astlyr shoulders. She laced her fingers into his, smiling.

"I suppose you'll be needing me," Varric said, smirking slightly. "You know you can't handle things on your own."

"This is true," Astlyr joked, giving the dwarf a nudge on the shoulder with her hip.

Dorian struck a heroic pose, "you have but to ask and I shall stand by your side." he proclaimed in an over-the-top voice.

"Cas, perhaps you should stay here and recuperate?" Astlyr turned to her warrior friend.

"I assume you are joking?" Cassandra's scarred face was determined, "a few burns are hardly going to keep me back in Skyhold."

Cullen looked saddened as he watched the group disperse to gather supplies and ready the horses. Astlyr turned to her human friend, "will you keep an eye on Cole for me? He'll be staying behind this time. He needs to heal."

"Indeed," the man agreed, nodding, but still obviously unhappy.

"Oh, Cole!" Astlyr looked up, "Solas, I'm certain he'll want to see you! Would you come to visit him with me? He was wounded pretty badly in our last adventure."

"No...thank you," Solas' answer was quick and clipped. This startled Astlyr. Solas and Cole had always been close. Perhaps sharing a stronger bond even than hers with the spirit boy. The elf saw her expression and pressed on, "no, we...we must be off as soon as possible."

Astlyr spared a glance at Celwydd, who wore a smirk she didn't like the look of. His slim hand was still resting on the hilt of his sword. She noticed that she could see all the bones of his hand. She wondered if he was ill or underfed. She tore her eyes from scrutinizing Celwydd's sunken features and turned back to her friend, "I have something else I would like you to see. If you will come with me for a moment. It pertains to your research I think. It will take my men an hour at least to be ready to depart."

"Very well," Solas grudgingly agreed. He turned to his fellow, "remain here."

Celwydd nodded. Astlyr began to lead the way, but made eye contact with one of the guards. He understood her look and nodded. They would keep a close eye on the newcomer. Astlyr led on, walking slowly so Solas could keep up with her much longer stride. "Why did you leave without saying anything?" she asked again as they went.

He did not answer for a long moment, as though considering. "I was devastated by the loss of the orb," he said. No emotion reached his voice now, Astlyr noted. She remembered her friend's face on that day. When she had destroyed Corypheus, but also the Orb of Destruction in the process. He had looked as shattered as the object he had sought. She had even spotted a tear on his cheek. She had had no idea that the thing had meant so much to him personally. She thought his interest had been academic. He went on, "I had to separate myself for a while. Spend some time traveling in the Fade, and in this world. I am sorry I did not stay long enough to say goodbye," he did not sound sorry. His words were flat. Astlyr glanced down at his face. His mind seemed focused elsewhere. She imagined that he was thinking of the mission ahead. She knew when he was studying he could be very distracted. She let this strangeness pass.

"So in your travels you discovered something you needed my help with?" she asked, clasping her hands behind her back as she walked.

"Indeed," he gave her a smile and this time it felt truer. "A spirit is trapped. I need you, and your anchor, to help me set him free."

"Is it another spirit like Wisdom?" she asked. "Trapped in our world by idiotic humans?"

"In a way," Solas said, offering no further explanation.

"Here we are," Astlyr led Solas into the infirmary. She showed him to the bed where the supposed Fen'Harel lay and gave him a quick explanation of the situation. Myfanwy watched the proceedings, but it was clear she was getting used to all the constant comings and goings to Skyhold. She greeted Solas with a brief elven exchange, which Astlyr, of course, could not understand, and then she sat back down on the bed and turned her interest to the sketch she was working on.

"This is most intriguing," Solas said, and this time it was clear that he meant it. His eyes sparkled with an eager light. "You say he came to you as s dead bird? Very clever. I would have never suspected..."

"Neither would I," Astlyr chuckled. "And then at the Temple of Mythal this elvish man, Daveth, gave his body to 'Fen'Harel'"

"I did not know the Dread Wolf had any followers in the area," Solas said, scrutinizing the young man.

Astlyr watched, and was it just her imagination, or did the man on the bed move, ever so slightly? Just a twitch of the face? A flutter of dark eyelashes? Especially when Solas leaned down and the jawbone necklace he wore brushed the young man's arm. As Solas stood straight again the unconscious elf was as still as he had ever been. "Do you have any thoughts about waking him?" She asked.

Solas sighed, touching his necklace absentmindedly, "I am afraid I cannot help you, or him, in that regard. You shall just have to wait for him to awaken. However, I must warn you that Fen'Harel is a trickster. If he does wake, you must be wary of him."

Astlyr cast her mind back to something else she remember Solas telling her about the Dread Wolf. On their first journey to the Temple of Mythal he had told them that Fen'Harel was not the trickster the stories would have you believe, but rather, perhaps, a god of rebellion. She decided not to mention this. "So you have no idea how to wake him either?" she pressed.

"I am afraid not," he said, "though I believe his waking could be aided by infusing him with power. I am uncertain how to do this, however."

Astlyr bit her tongue. They had had an opportunity and she had let it pass. She decided not to mention this, feeling he would agree that killing spirits in any form was wrong. Solas loved all the Fade and its creatures, she knew.

"They're ready for you, Ma'am," Guardswoman Jones stood in the doorway.

"Thank you," Astlyr said, giving her a nod. "Shall we?" she asked Solas. "There is nothing you need? No supplies?"

He shook his head. "Horses for myself and Celwydd is all I require. It is not a far journey."

"Alright then," Astlyr said, "If you will return to the courtyard I will armor up and meet you all there."

Solas hesitated, then nodded. He wore another strange expression. "You do remember the way?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"Of course," he answered curtly.

Astlyr went to the armory, with Guardswoman Jones tagging behind. When they were out of earshot of Solas the woman moved forward to walk beside Astlyr. "Ma'am," she said, her tone urgent.

"Yes?"

"While we were watching that other elf, Celwydd, he requested a tour of our grounds. We could see no harm so we consented. However, when we showed him the mage tower we...we lost track of him for a few moments."

"Did anything happen?" Astlyr questions.

"Not that we can tell, Ma'am," Jones said. "Nothing missing, no one harmed. I just wanted to inform you."

"Thank you, guardswoman," Astlyr nodded to her as she selected her armor from its rack and began pulling it on. "I will be sure to keep a close eye on this Celwydd fellow as we go." She took down the special chainmail shirt that had been made for her. It opened at the front and closed with wooden toggles so she did not have to pull it on over her horns. Her mind was busy. She wasn't certain why but this whole situation made her edgy. It was not a feeling she liked to have right at the start of a mission. Yes, she would keep a close eye on Celwydd, and on Solas too.

*** As always, feel free to comment with thoughts, or any errors you might notice :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Part 7**

**Power**

The weather could be beautiful when it wanted to be, Astlyr thought to herself as she and her company rode along. This was certainly an improvement over their last outing. The air was crisp, but not biting. The trees in The Emerald Graves still clung stubbornly to leaves as red and yellow as flames. The path they rode was partially obscured by crunching drifts of leaf-litter. The air smelled wonderful, she thought, recalling autumns at her childhood home. For a moment she could almost smell her mother's cooking wafting in on a breeze.

"It is pure luck that it isn't raining," Dorian had ridden up beside her. The mage had clearly taken in her expression of happiness and decided to pick on her. She was careful not to let him see her smile.

"Oh yes. You wait. We've gone a whole day and night without rain, which can only mean a snow storm is on its way for certain," she smirked.

"Don't be ridiculous," Iron Bull trotted his horse up to join them and Astlyr could practically feel the ground shake beneath the creature's massive hooves. "Hail. Hail is the only option after so much sun and pleasant breezes."

"Can't stand those breezes, myself," Varric could not resist the banter. "All this pleasantness turns my stomach."

Cassandra just shook her head at their antics. She was seldom one to join in with whatever tomfoolery the bunch got up to, but she was certainly not above enjoying it from a distance.

"Any second now one of the horses is going to tread on a wasp nest and we'll all be stung until no one can recognize us," Astlyr said, making a show of scanning the terrain for any sign of stinging insects.

"Ooo, good one," Varric nodded his approval.

Astlyr paused, glancing over her shoulder. Solas and his companion rode further back, conversing in low tones. She knew that the scholarly elf was never one to be overly silly, but like Cassandra he had been known to laugh at them, at the very least. Instead he barely looked up even as his mount tripped slightly on a concealed rock.

Astlyr gave Smoke's reins a gentle tug and the big horse slowed so her friends could ride on past her. She waited until Solas and Celwydd had reached her. They looked up as she joined them. "So, Solas, you were rather sparse on the details of your travels when we were in Skyhold. But now we have a few more hours ride under out belts. You've hardly spoken to us all day. Is anything the matter?"

Solas seemed to consider for a moment. "I am merely concerned about...my friend."

"The spirit we are going to help?" Astlyr asked.

"Yes."

"I see. Can you tell me anything about what we are going to face? Will there be mages, as there were when we tried to help your friend, Wisdom?"

"No," Solas shook his head. "The place we are going should be a quiet one, but my friend is trapped there. I need your help to free him."

"What can I do?" she cocked her head, "I hate to say this, but hitting people and objects with my sword is basically where my expertise begins and ends. I'm not certain how I can help you if there is no one to fight."

"May I see your hand," Solas asked, holding out his own.

She guessed what he meant. With her teeth she tugged off the glove on her left hand and held it out to him. He took it, scrutinizing as best he could while on a moving horse. As he did so a memory came to her. _She stood against a tear in the veil. Around her strangers watched, expectant, but she did not know what she was supposed to do. She only knew the pain on her palm seared her, coursing down the veins in her wrist and towards her heart. Then a hand had grabbed her wrist and held her hand upwards towards the tear. The elf. The apostate. He was helping her._ His gesture, however minor, had been enough. Now she looked across at that same elf, only there was something changed about him. She could not put her finger on it. Certainly he was quieter. The Solas she knew would not have ridden so far back. He might have engaged in a lively debate with Varric or Dorian. He might have speculated about the wolf statues they passed. Something.

"I can sense that it is still bound to your soul," he muttered, almost too quiet for her to hear.

"The anchor?" she asked, taking her hand back and looking at the dormant mark. "If you say so. It certainly seems to behave the same as it ever did."

"Hmmm, indeed," Solas answered, considering.

Astlyr glanced up and had the misfortune of meeting Celwydd's cold gaze. The slim elf was downright unnerving. He seemed to be able to see through her armor and flesh to her bones, and she couldn't shake the feeling that he was mentally dissecting her. Her skin crawled and she looked down again.

"I never asked you," Solas was speaking, his tone taking on a more conversational note. More like his old self. "What were you doing in the Temple of Sacred Ashes when the breach was formed? A qunari woman happens to wander in right as a deadly ritual is being performed? Rather unusual, wouldn't you agree?"

Astlyr considered for a moment. This was true. In fact, no one seemed eager to ask her about her what has brought her to the temple. Everyone assumed fate or the Maker were involved, and happily left the topic alone. "It was dumb luck," she shrugged. Her other friends had slowed their mounts as well, to hear. "Which is what I keep telling people if they would ever listen," she said wryly. "As I recall it was snowing pretty badly. I had been traveling alone in the mountains for some days. I was cold, hungry and lost. I had used up all the money from my last job, but I had heard that the followers of the Maker could be soft. They'd likely give me food, so when I saw their temple, in I went."

"That's it? You were going to beg?" Solas asked, eyebrows raised.

"Well, you don't need to say it like that," Astlyr said, "I was going to...ask for food. Inside it was cold and empty and I thought no one was around, but then I heard voices in the inner chamber. I started in that direction and I heard a cry for help. So, as Cole would say, I helped."

"And look where it got you," Varric snarked.

"I know," Astlyr gave him a playful grin, "teach me to help people."

"So it really was luck?" Dorian asked.

"Divine luck," Cassandra pointed out. "I had my doubts about Astlyr being the Herald of Andraste, but I can still see how the Maker might have brought her to that temple at exactly the right time."

Astlyr tried not to let anyone see her roll her eyes. Though she didn't hear it much any more, she was still royally sick of the title of Herald. Inquisitor was better by far.

"The place is not far now," Solas spoke, urging his horse to trot. The others did the same, following him. Astlyr felt a cold rush come over her as they went. As though the air had turned from balmy to chill. She ignored it, focusing on the area around her for possible signs of danger. They were moving into a deepening gully with walls of jagged rock on either side. It was fast becoming a canyon, and was growing narrow. She wondered how long they could remain on their horses as her toes touched the walls.

Ahead Solas called something, though she could not make out what. In a moment she saw, as the narrow pathway opened up into a valley, surrounded on all sides by high rock walls. In the center of the area stood stood an odd structure. At first it appeared to be a tall mound of tiny stones, almost matching her in height. As they drew nearer she saw that each, smooth, oval stone was about the size of her palm and was intricately placed. There were thousands, maybe more, and they formed a sort of enclosure with an entrance as tall as Solas. She marveled how the thing managed to stand. She was no builder, but she could tell the construction was painstaking. She wondered how long it had been there. It would have made a lousy shelter, she thought as she studied it. It was about the right size for an elf, or a short human to stand inside, but not much else. No room to sit, and she imagined a really strong wing might even topple it. At the doorway to the structure sat a larger stone with an indentations in its surface. Cradled in this indentation was something she had seen before. She dismounted and drew nearer. "Is that...?"

"The orb?" Cassandra recognized it as well. Soon everyone had climbed down from their mounts and was eying the strange archway.

"What remains of it," said Solas, suddenly looking sad. Not as she had seen him when the orb had first been broken, but still distraught. Before she could reach out, or offer reassurance, Celwydd was there, placing a hand on Solas' shoulders and muttering to him. Astlyr felt her skin go clammy. Her warrior's instinct, or perhaps a sense that ran deeper still, was pricking at her mind. Perhaps it was this place. High stone walls looming above. She could make out a few trees with roots probing experimentally downward at the top of the cliffs. This would be a bad place to be ambushed. Archers could appear overhead and she and her men could be wounded or worse in seconds. Her hand strayed to her shield without her notice.

"I don't like this," Iron Bull spoke in her ear. At least he had the same feeling, she thought with a dark sense of certainty. Perhaps she wasn't insane.

Astlyr turned to the horses, who stood in a bunch behind the group. "I'll send them out," she said, keeping her voice level. She moved over to Smoke and tugged a red strip of cloth that was hidden under a leather fold on his saddle so it was hanging visible. Then, keeping her body between Solas and the red cloth, she moved the horse around and gave him a quick slap on the rump, "Go, Smoke. Get clear," she shouted.

Doing as he was trained the horse turned and darted back out the way they had come. The other mounts followed him willingly. Astlyr caught Cassandra's eye and nodded fractionally. The red cloth was a quick and easy call for help. The horse would wait outside the canyon, trained to stay clear when ordered to to keep him safe during battles. At a special whistle from Astlyr Smoke would return to Skyhold and Cullen would see the cloth, then mobilize his men to the Emerald Graves. A pity there was no easy way to tell him exactly where she was, but Cullen had a lot of soldiers.

She turned back to the two elves. "So..." she asked, rocking back on her heels slightly, still eying the cliff-tops. "What is this stone thingy?"

"It is a magical trap, of sorts," Solas explained. "My friend is inside. When I came upon it, it was in grave disrepair, but Celwydd has gone to great pains to ensure that every stone is in its proper place. Now all we need is you."

"And I can help how?" Astlyr questioned, watching out of the corner of her eye as the rest of her team got into a rough formation, just to be safe.

"We need the anchor," Solas nodded towards her hand, his expression grim. There was a tight set to his lips. Determination? Fear?

"The anchor only opens rifts to the Fade," Astlyr pulled off both her gloves and tucked them into her belt. Then she looked at her palm, the green mark still dormant.

"It is more than that," Solas said, and a little of his old self seemed to return. An eagerness for knowledge that she recognized. "The anchor can be many things if wielded properly."

Astlyr frowned, still uncertain what he was driving at. "Are you going to have me open a fade rift inside this stone thing?"

Solas waved away her words and smiled thinly, "No, no. You need not open a rift at all. Your mark reacts to, and controls aspects of the Fade, this is true. But it can also be used for other purposes. All we need of you is that you press your hand to the stones, just there." He indicated a spot with a gesture.

"Press my hand to the stones and what?" Astlyr stepped forward, cautiously. She raised her palm towards the object, awaiting a reaction, but nothing happened.

"I will facilitate the rest," Solas smiled encouragingly at her. That smile, which reached his eyes, caught her and made her remember the elf who had been her friend. The man who had stood beside her in almost every adventure. Who had entered the Fade with her. Who had walked with her in dreams when her spirit might have lost its way. Though she felt a tightness in her chest she nodded. Solas kept smiling warmly, gesturing that she should place her hand on the top of the door-frame, which for her was shoulder height. This she did, though carefully, so as not to knock anything out of place. She could feel Calwydd's cold eyes watching her every move.

Nothing happened. The many oval rocks were cool to the touch, but it did not so much as make her hand prickle. Then Solas stepped up beside her with his graceful stride. He raised his slim hands, magic bursting to life in them. A few artful motions sent the magic surging towards her. The white light collided with her hand where it rested and now she did feel something. A kind of tugging deep in her chest. The pull of energies up her arm and into her palm. It was an odd sensation. Like waves receding from shore. It wasn't painful, but certainly strange.

Solas spoke quietly as he channeled his magic to her. "The anchor mark may be on your hand, but the magic itself runs much deeper. The moment it was given to you, the anchor wrapped itself around every part of you. It is bound to you, heart, lungs, brain, everything. This is why Corypheus could not take it from you. He could never separate what was you and what was the anchor." he paused a moment, concentrating.

Astlyr could sense rather than see her team's unease as they stood back, watching. They must have been really nervous, she realized. None of them were making snarky comments. Solas continued, a little breathlessly, "I do not believe an ordinary person could wield the anchor. It would take one of great physical or mental fortitude."

"I've got the physical part down," Astlyr said, watching as the white magic over her hand began to mix with green. She wasn't certain where the emerald strands were coming from until she realized, they were emanating from her. "This may be the closest I'll ever come to casting a spell," she mused aloud, more to reassure her people that she was alright than anything.

"Perhaps," Solas chuckled.

As Astlyr watched the white and green light from their hands traveled down to the strange doorway. It followed paths between the little stones like water trickling downward. Astlyr spared a sideways glance at Solas. His face was bright, eager, though sweat was visible on his brow. "Are you alright?" she asked, quiet enough so that only he would hear.

He gave her a quick smile before his face returned to a look of concentration, "this is less than ideal. The orb would have been..." he seemed to catch himself and fell silent.

Astlyr watched as their joined magics coated the structure and it cascaded over the doorway like a glittering waterfall. She gaped, fascinated as a cat, when the colors blurred, blended, and separated again, forming a sort of curtain before the door. Then a shape became visible behind it. Much shorter than she, and slender. Elvish, she guessed as she watched the figure turn and thought she caught sight of the outline of a pointed ear. She could not make out features, only the shape, which appeared to be male. The man had come to stand directly before her, separated only by the curtain of tumbling magic. Astlyr wasn't certain she liked the way the shadow man seemed to stare at her, even thought she could not see his eyes. "Is that your friend?" she asked Solas.

"It is!" Solas' voice was strained, but excited.

Astlyr could feel the energy really starting to pull from her now. Surging towards her hand and out into the object she touched. Solas was obviously struggling to match it with his own magic. She felt as though she had just gone for a run. Her muscles protested faintly and she was panting. "How much longer?" she asked.

"To be honest with you, I am not certain. I've never done this before," Solas admitted. "Perhaps if you focused your mind on the task at hand?"

Astlyr tried to clear her thoughts and focus, as Solas had suggested. She found this surprisingly difficult. They ran and mingled like the magic before her eyes. One moment she was remembering running through a grassy field with her old dog, Dash. The next she was freezing and alone in the rubble of Haven, desperately searching for her new friends. Then she was chattering loudly with a lively merc band she had led for a few months before she had found her way to the fateful Temple of Sacred Ashes.

She was starting to feel more like she had just gone a through a rigorous workout. The strain must have been obvious to her companions. "You good, Kadan?" Iron Bull asked.

"Yeah," Astlyr answered, but she sounded breathier than she expected. She tried to clear her mind. It was growing more difficult, and suddenly images were forcefully invading. Like daydreams only she could not shake them. Her mind kept drifting towards memories of herself at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The Divine reaching towards her in the Fade. The moment when the woman's hand had met hers. And then pain exploded up her arm and into her chest. She yelled, reared back, but she could not take her hand from the stones. She heard Solas gasp as well and then green and white light engulfed them both. It may have been for mere seconds, but it felt far too long to bear. Astlyr was finally thrown back onto her ass. She sat blinking and cradling her arm, which still throbbed the way it often did after she closed a rift.

Her friends surrounded her in seconds, hands reaching to help her up. Cassandra in front of her with shield ready. Astlyr stumbled to her feet, Her movements were clumsy, her muscles burned with weariness. She did her best to reassure her companions, "I'm alright. I'm fine. Well...that was an experience."

"Did it work?" Dorian asked.

All around the stone structure a hazy purplish fog hovered, obscuring both the object and the elves who had stood beside it. Astlyr waved away a tendril as he crept towards her. "Solas?" she called, urgently.

Then there was the sound of laughter, and it was at once foreign and familiar. It was not the sound of her friend, that was certain. The fog slowly cleared, creeping to earth and seeming to slink away like a living thing. Astlyr's friends moved to avoid letting it touch them. Finally she could see Solas, as well as Celwydd. Another figure stood with them, having seemingly stepped from the stone doorway. An elvish man in ornate clothes. His hair was golden and it shimmered with an unnatural light. He turned to the group, eyes flashing. Astlyr could feel a power in his look alone.

Then she realized, it was Solas who was laughing. Only it wasn't him. Wasn't his voice at all. When he looked at her there was something very different in his eyes. It took her a moment to place it, even as she grappled for her sword with a clumsy hand. They were a dragon's eyes, and his laughter was that of a dragon. She was not certain how she knew, but she knew. Unequivocally.

Solas stopped his unnerving laughter and fixed his alien eyes on her. Astlyr shuddered. Though the man before her had Solas' face, there was suddenly very little of her old friend about him. She hesitated. Part of her mind still tugged, trying to assure her that the elf she knew would never let anything bad happen to them. But The Maker knew what had happened to him on his journey's after he had so abruptly abandoned her. Was he possessed? Being controlled by something other? Her lips parted to speak, but her voice caught in her throat as the man they had freed flexed his shoulders and neck, like an athlete about to compete, and then transformed.

Had Astlyr not witnessed a woman transforming into a dragon once before she might have been more shocked. As it was, the situation was going from confusing to bad in an alarmingly short span of time. The man she had helped to free transformed with a burst of smoke and magic which knocked Astlyr and her people back against one of the craggy stone walls of the valley. Overhead storm clouds rolled in with an unnatural speed. They roiled over and over in their hurry to blot out the sun. Lightning crackled across the dark mass of the sky as Astlyr pulled her shield into place and faced down the creature that stood before them.

It was not quite dragon, though certainly large enough to be mistaken for one. In point of fact it was even more massive than most dragons she had seen. It was all rippling muscle beneath silver-black scales. Small eyes peered from a huge head, with an impressive lower jaw which looked like it could easily chomp an aged oak tree in half with one bite. The beast seemed to consider for a moment, then swung its head around on its short, sinewy neck to study the qunari and her people.

"This does not look good," Varric spoke for them all as he aimed Bianca, awaiting instruction.

"It does not," Astlyr agreed. "Dragon formation," she ordered curtly. She shot a glance towards the valley's only exit. They could make a break for it. She didn't like the idea of fighting this thing in such close quarters. Not at all. She saw Solas and his fellow elf making their way towards the point of egress. They strode calmly. Solas had not even drawn his staff. Astlyr gripped her sword hilt tighter, fighting the urge to call out to her friend. Clearly whatever the giant creature was (demon perhaps) it was exerting control over the scholarly elf. Inwardly she cursed herself for not recognizing any signs of his now obvious possession.

She signaled to her people with a quick nod of her head, indicating that they should move their formation towards the pathway out of the valley. The moment they did so, the monster attacked.

Claws the size of Astlyr's forearm raked the earth in front of her, churning up dirt and rock. She barely managed to dodge, turning her clumsiness into a fresh action. She spun, swinging shield edge and sword, striking the massive limb. Her attack left a shallow wound in the scaled flesh, but certainly no more than a paper cut to the beast that towered over them. Fighting was difficult in the confined space. The creature took up almost all of the valley. Its tail and hind legs had already reduced the intricate stone structure to rubble. It was clearly intelligent, as it pivoted the fight so that she and her men were forced further from the exit. It clawed and bit at them as they struggled to find ways to combat it.

"Varric, focus on its eyes!" Astlyr shouted as she and Cassandra prepared to charge at a leg with their shields. She hesitated a moment to put her finger and thumb into her mouth and blew two sharp whistles. This was Smoke's signal to run for help. It was clear to her that this monster was not going to let them pass.

Dorian attempted to root the creature to the earth with a blast of ice magic to a limb, but it barely wrapped around and was easily shaken off. Iron Bull worked on the opposite foreleg from Astlyr and Cassandra, smashing with his maul. He was doing an effective job of distracting the monster, but little else.

Varric had found himself a rock to hide behind while he took careful aim at the mammoth head. Astlyr saw the motion of his bolt letting fly as she and Cas struggled not to be crushed underfoot. Already Astlyr head been knocked down and a claw had slashed her leg. Her thigh was streaming with warm blood, but she little noticed. In battle she found she could often ignore wounds. Perhaps a trait of her Qunari nature.

Varric's first bolt missed by a narrow margin, glancing off the creature's cheekbone. It gave a snort which almost blew Dorian off his feet as he lobbed a fireball at it. His fireball went off course and narrowly missed Iron Bull. The warrior snarled as he continued his assault, "Can we please not kill me with friendly fire right now? I'm a little busy!"

"Sorry," Dorian shouted, though he was already focusing on his next spell.

"Varric!" Cassandra shouted as the foot came down and knocked her to one side. She struggled to stand as the talon reached for her. "Shoot it please!"

Astlyr moved to aid Cassandra, though she felt sluggish. The magic from before had left her drained. She was not up to her usual fighting form. She cursed repeatedly and loudly. Varric shot more bolts. A rapid-fire spray. This time a bolt found its home in the creature's eye. The roar the monster let out was so loud that the fighters had to clamp hands over their ears. The earth shook with it. Then the creature struck out with the limb that Cas and Astlyr had been trying to hold at bay, and swatted Varric aside, completely destroying the rock he had been hiding behind. The dwarf was thrown several feet and landed hard. Then he lay still.

"Varric!" Cassandra moved first, ignoring the wounds she had already sustained she made a run for the dwarf.

"Cas! Stay in formation!" Astlyr yelled, but to no avail.

The beast brought its foot down on the warrior woman. She blocked upwards with her shield but the monster needed only to apply a little of its weight to press her to earth. She gave a desperate cry, slashing wildly at the pad of the monster's foot with her blade. Astlyr rushed to her aid, but there was little she could do but add her own blade to the ineffectual stabs. Dorian opened up with his magic. Astlyr felt the cold and heat of his spells blasting past either side of her head, and she could only trust that he would not take off her ear.

Cassandra was well and truly pinned, and the creature was pressing down. Astlyr watched in horror as her friend's eye grew wide and a small gout of blood bubbled from between her lips. Astlyr gave her own roar of anger and drove her sword into the beast's flesh with as much force as she could muster, which was considerable. This seemed to do the trick as the creature lifted its leg, though it took her sword with it. Then it swung the wounded limb and slammed Astlyr back against the stone wall. She felt her armor bend with the force and then it was difficult to breath as the metal compacted against her chest. "Bull!" She coughed as she struggled to get a good breath, tugging at the buckles of her breastplate to free herself from it.

Iron Bull was there in moments, and attacking with a wild ferocity she had not seen before. For someone to impressive of size, he moved quickly. His blows would have pulped a human's entire body. His maul left deep and bleeding gouges in the thick flesh of the monster. He voiced his war cry with what Astlyr could almost imagine was a kind of glee. Impossible battles were just his speed. Then, even as she watched, throwing her badly dented breastplate from herself, the creature reached down and grabbed Iron Bull in its mouth.

"No!" Astlry screamed. She charged again, though she kept her eyes up on her lover where he was trapped in the beast's enormous teeth. The creature bit down, even as Bull smashed at its face with his maul. Astlyr heard a sickening crunch and Iron Bull went limp. "Bull!" she cried, her voice breaking as he tumbled from the monster's jaws and hit the ground with a thud that made her insides twist. She knew she could not make a run for him. She had the monster's focus for the moment. "Dorian!" she shouted, making a dash herself for Cassandra, and the woman's sword.

With the last two prey going in opposite directions the monster seemed uncertain for a moment. It shifted its massive limbs, obviously in pain from the numerous wounds that had been inflicted upon it. It did not bother to attempt to claw the arrow from its eye. Instead it seemed to make a decision and went for Dorian. Astlyr realized this and made a hasty choice. Go for a sword or try to reach her mage friend? She placed herself, and her shield, between the creature's slow, but deadly attack. She felt the shield give as if it were paper and her arm shatter beneath it. This was a bit more troubling than the thigh wound, she realized as her arm went limp. Pain seared up to her shoulder and she suddenly had to fight hard not to vomit. She let the shield slip from her useless limb and then struggled to get what remained of it onto her other arm.

Dorian shot spell after spell at the beast, but she could tell he was running out of mana as well as strength. She could see a bleeding wound on his forehead she had not noticed. Likely cause by flying rocky debris as the creature tore up the earth. He met her eyes in that moment. His look was a question. Would they stay with their unconscious or dead friends? Would they attempt to win the unwindable? Or should they try to make for the exit? Perhaps, if they both chose different routs one of them might live.

Astlyr moved closer to him, once again placing herself between the creature and the mage. She could hear his ragged breathing behind her. "So..." he panted, "Blaze of glory then?"

"Looks that way," she said between gritted teeth. Her vision had gone red. The last blood-rage of Astlyr Adaar, she thought bitterly as the monster struck at them with a claw, and then snapped with its jaws. It grabbed Astlyr's shield in its maw and jerked. Luckily the straps had been loosened when she had let it fall from her broken arm, or her other limb would have been ripped from her body. As it was she felt a pop that might have been dislocation as her shield was torn free.

She gritted her teeth as the claws came in again. Dorian used ice to try to slow the blow. He succeeded, but it was not enough. Both of them were knocked back against the stones. Astlyr felt her mind sink towards unconsciousness, but she fought it, forcing her eyes to focus. The claws had missed her for the most part, leaving two deep grooves on either side of her legs. She heard Dorian moan and turned to see a claw had struck him, leaving an ugly wound from chest to hip. Like her he was clinging doggedly to consciousness. He met her eyes with his dark ones and what she saw there she had not expected. A look of wild ferocity, like the one she knew shone in her own eyes. The desire, the drive, to win the unwindable. He reached towards her and she grabbed his hand as best she could with her ruined limb. "I'm sorry," she mouthed, unable to get the air into her lungs to speak.

He gave his head a small but determined shake, not taking his gaze from hers. It was clear he had decided he wanted his last view to be the face of his friend rather than the creature that would kill them. She felt his bloody fingers tighten around hers. Green light exploded from their clasped hands and Astlyr was nearly blinded. Her muzzy mind thought, _Oh good. The demon breaths veil-fire. Just what we needed._

The green light began to form a dome over the two of them. Dorian, obviously as confused as she, raised his free hand and the bubble of magic that covered them grew larger. He was clearly trying to concentrate, then made and fist with his upraised hand, and spread his fingers in a quick gesture. The green barrier exploded outwards smashing into the monster with amazing forced. It crushed the creature against the opposite wall and Astlyr heard its roar of agony.

Her world was getting fuzzy around the edges. A white mist creeping in. She felt her hand slip from Dorian's and she turned her head (about the only part of her she had control over) to see that he had passed out, but now a green strand of magic, like the one that would form from her to a rift when she closed it, arched from her palm to Dorian's. It fizzled and jumped weakly, but it was still there. She turned her weary gaze back to seek the monster which had been crushed against the valley wall, but it was gone. Her mind did not have to to ponder what might have happened to it as she finally fell into the abyss of unconsciousness.

*****Uh oh. I warned you all that I like to beat up on characters, and now everyone is looking pretty grim! Did that giant monster kill anyone?! Best tune in next week to find out! Same DA time same DA channel!

As always, I love comments (they feed my enormous ego) and also can help point out any errors, etc.  
>As you may have noticed I have begun stretching and expanding the lore a bit. While I will try to remain mostly true to the canon the games give us (I have not read the books, so if I miss a detail from a book please do not hesitate to tell me). However, I will tweak a few things, and will expand on what the games give us from my own imagination. Which, I suspect, is partly why your tune in!<p>

Thanks for reading!  
>Next chapter: 129/15


	8. Chapter 8

**Part 8**

**Awakening**

Astlyr saw the world in flashes.

Blue sky with a bird flapping through it—Blackness.

A shout, "they're over here, hurry!" -Blackness.

A face hovering over her, she wasn't certain whose –Blackness.

"-Won't make it through the night if we don't..." -Blackness.

A cool hand resting over her eyes and a sudden feeling of calm. -Blackness.

Something nestled beside her on a bed. An animal? A wolf? -Blackness.

When she was able to open her eyes and keep them open it was night. There was soft light from a nearby fireplace and a few candles as the only illumination. Somewhere in the warm room she could hear someone moving. She took a moment to study the rafters. Herbs hung above her. The scent was meant to keep out infection, she recalled, and perhaps evil spirits. Her mind felt like that of a child. Unable to hold on to complex thoughts. Instead she pondered the herbs. Slowly, as she did this, her memories arranged themselves like books fallen from a shelf, back into a semblance of recollection. First came a feeling of betrayal. She couldn't put her finger on it for a long moment, then finally recalled Solas' face. Only it wasn't his face. The eyes of a dragon had replaced his kind ones. She shuddered.

She managed to look down at herself. Her right arm was in a sling against her chest. The other was stiffly splinted and bandaged, laying straight at her side. It felt as though the bone had been replaced with a blade, which sliced away at tender muscle. She tried not to think about it, though her eyes watered.

Then her mind really came to life and she tried to sit up. "My men!" her voice was cracked and dry as old parchment. The motion of attempting to rise was extremely painful and her head spun wildly. Suddenly two hands were at her shoulders, pressing her back down.

"No, no, Astlyr. You must be still."

"Cole?" she allowed herself to be pressed back onto the soft bed.

"Yes," the pale boy smiled down at her. "I'm here. I am to fetch the others as soon as you wake, and you are awake, so I will go get them."

Before the spirit boy could vanish she grabbed his hand, a motion which sent pain slicing up her arm. She bit back a grimace and asked, "Cole. My men?"

He turned his wan eyes back down to her and his mouth tilted in what might have been his attempt at an encouraging smile. "They all live. I know you are very worried about them. And...angry because of Solas?" he tilted his head, confused. "His name is jumbled in your mind. Thorns on a tree and you bleed. Bending to bow and you are betrayed. What happened?" He gently untwined her fingers from his and lay her arm back beside her. Then he rested his hand on her arm soothing the pain with his gift. His eyes held the careful, gentle quality she had seen as he watched over other wounded. It was strange having that expression fixed on her.

"Go bring the others, Cole. I'll tell everyone what happened at once." she said. She noticed he stood leaning on a cane, his wounded leg held up so he did not put much weight on it. She hoped he was not doing himself harm being up and about.

He caught her concern with a tilt of his head, "I am alright, Astlyr," he reassured her before vanishing.

"That boy," another voice spoke. Astlyr turned her head to see Audra, the lead healer walking over. "You should have seen the state he was in when you were all brought back to Skyhold. He sensed you coming before you were even on the bridge. He popped down here and told us to get ready because we had wounded coming in and before I knew, it you lot were carried through that door," she shook her head, her expression serious. "And you were in a bad state, let me tell you. Cole wouldn't be still, so I convinced him to at least use a cane."

"He's not doing himself more harm is he?" Astlyr questioned, attempting to push herself up to a sitting position. This failed as her limbs seemed to have been replaced with wet noodles. She cursed under her breath.

"I don't believe so," Audra answered her. Then the healer motioned with her head to one of the guards standing silently beside the still slumbering elven 'god'. The man came over and between the two of them they propped Astlyr up against a mound of pillows and the headboard.

"I'm glad to see you awake, ma'am," the guard said, touching the brim of his helmet in salute.

"I am too," Astlyr gave him her best encouraging smile before he returned to his guarding duties. Now the qunari took in the infirmary. A warm fire blazed on the hearth and all around her her team slumbered on various beds. To her left was Dorian, the mage's chest rising and falling slowly. Across from her Iron Bull lay. She could make out that he was covered in many bandages. She shuddered to remember what had happened to her kadan and wished she could go to him, but she knew that motion would be about as successful as her attempt to sit up. In beds beside Bull rested Varric and Cassandra. She could not make out the extent of their injuries. "How are they?" she asked.

"Some better than others," Audra admitted, sitting down on the edge of Astlyr bed and taking her pulse, seemingly more out of habit than anything. "Varric had a serious head wound and a few impressive lacerations, but that's all. Dorian..." she glanced sideways at the quiet mage, "it was a miracle the wound he sustained missed puncturing his stomach or intestines. Some ribs needed resetting and he had his own head wound, but he is resting well now." Astlyr winced as she remembered standing with her friend as the monster had slashed at them. "You, broke your left arm in three places. Your other arm was almost dislocated, but I found it to be badly strained and no more. As to your leg; the wound missed the major artery there, or you would have bled to death before help found you. Iron Bull and Cassandra were the worst," Audra looked pained herself, "I freely admit they might have died if not for-"

"If not for a little magical assistance." a familiar, if unexpected voice in the doorway got Astlyr's attention.

"Viv!" she exclaimed, and every muscle in her body protested.

The elegant mage strode into the room, her dark eyes kind. Astlyr knew she was the only person who could get away with calling the enchantress 'Viv' and she smiled to herself. Audra nodded in agreement with the woman's words, "Lady Vivienne arrived in time to help us. She was able, along with our other mages, to repair the damage to Iron Bull and Cassandra's internal organs. Otherwise...they would not have survived."

"You are lucky indeed," Vivienne said, a smile on her lips, "that I was already on my way back to Skyhold. I had plans to stay the winter and help your mages gain some discipline, as their circle is no longer there for them." She did not speak bitterly, though Astlyr knew she disapproved of disbanding the mage circles.

"Thank the Maker!" Cullen fairly charged into the room. His weary face was lined with concern, but hopeful. He rushed to Astlyr, giving her a once over his his eyes before seeming satisfied that she was not going to die on the spot. Then he pulled up a chair and plopped down at her side. She noted that his arm was bandaged, but no longer in a sling. She wondered how long she had been unconscious.

"Well, look who's alive," Astlyr looked up in surprise to see Blackwall enter the room, arms folded, but a cheerful expression on his worn features.

"What are you doing here?" Astlyr questioned, smiling warmly.

"Well," he gave her an expressive shrug and a slight smile. "I told you that I was going to go aid in the rebuilding in the nearby villages, and I started out to do just that. A couple of the grey warnden lads stayed with me and...they kept talking about their calling and their important duty should a blight arise and it got me thinking. All this time I've been pretending to be a warden, and now that my true identity is known by more than just myself I got up the nerve to ask them..."

"You went through the joining?" Astlyr raised her eyebrows.

"I did," the man nodded, looking proud.

"I've heard that it can kill you," Asltyr pointed out.

"It can," Blackwall looked no less pleased with himself. "But I survived it, obviously."

"I am very glad," Astlyr gave him her biggest grin.

"Any road, I was back to helping with the rebuilding when I got word that some of ours had been in a bad skirmish and I came to make sure everyone was alright."

"Some of us almost weren't" the Inquisitor glanced wanly across the room towards her friends on the beds.

"Don't fuss about that now, my dear," said Vivienne, "they will live, thanks to a good deal of magical intervention and skill. I must say, it is perhaps better that so many mages have remained here. It is good to have those with great power feeling grateful to you," her smile had an edge to it, but Astlyr ignored this. She was far too pleased to be alive and surrounded by her friends.

"Ah, you are awake. Cole nearly scared me to death, waking me up with his freezing cold hand on my arm," Josephine came in next, her long nightdress swishing around her legs. Her black, curly hair was down, falling perfectly around her shoulders. Astlyr idly wondered why her own hair was always such a mess when Josie's could look like that right out of bed.

Finally Sera marched into the room, her arms folded and her expression dangerous. Cole followed timidly behind her, shrugging when the others gave him a look. "She told me to let her know as well. She doesn't like me, so it was difficult for her to ask."

Sera balled her hand into a fist and slammed it into Astlyr's shoulder, "THAT was for almost dying!" she snarled.

She was so loud that Myfanwy, who was sleeping in a bed beside that of the young man who had been her brother, woke with a start, then glared at Sera suspiciously.

Before anyone could object, or pull Sera away from their inquisitor Astlyr, smiled grimly, "Point taken," she said, meeting the blond elf's eyes.

Everyone slowly settled around the room. They were admittedly rather noisy and the healers glared as they tended their patients. Varric woke and reassured everyone that he was doing well. Cullen explained that Astlyr had been out for three days. In that time Varric had woken up and explained all that he could remember, though his version was limited.

"How did you find us?" Astlyr asked, taking the warm cup of tea that a healer was offering her and sipping slowly. Cole, who was sitting on the side of her bed, occasionally reached over to touch one of her arms when the pain became bad.

Cullen smiled wanly. He had a night's worth of stubble on his jaw and looked somehow older in the dim light of the room. "Your horse made good time back to us and I saw the red banner on his saddle so I mobilized my men immediately. Once in the Emerald Graves we encountered some...travelers," Astlyr knew he meant bandits and a grin twitched on her own lips. "We er...compensated them for their trouble and they told us that there had been the sound of what they had assumed was a dragon, as well as some unnatural weather happening, not far from us."

"You hear 'dragon' and naturally think 'that must be where the Inquisitor is?'" Varric joined in, looking jovial for someone with a bandage on his head.

"You'd be surprised how often that is true," Cullen chuckled, his face brightening slightly. "We found you in that valley. Some of your were barely alive," Cullen looked down at his hands in his lap. "Varric told us that Solas summoned something? A demon?"

"It would seem that way," Astlyr said, clenching her hand around her cup so that her left arm began to throb. Cole gently wrested the cup from her grip. "I think Solas was being controlled somehow. Maybe by that other elf, Celwydd? I didn't think he was a mage, but maybe it was something else. An artifact perhaps?"

"Or maybe old baldy-elf just betrayed us," Sera pointed out, tucking up her feet so she was sitting on a bed with her knees up to her chin.

"I suppose we can't discount it," Astlyr said quietly.

"Solas looks up as I enter and a smile comes to his fond face. 'My friend,' he says, and I know he means it. Warm, like sunlight on my skin. Smells of field flowers and cool streams. Others fear me, but this one trusts me, and tells me to try." Cole said, meeting Astlyr's eyes. "You made him happy, Astlyr," the boy asserted firmly.

"Solas doesn't seem like the type to betray us. My money's on mind control." Varric said, folding his hands in his lap.

"I read your report on the last demon he wanted you to help," Josie began rifling through some of the papers she always carried on her special hand-held board. She didn't find what she was searching for and she looked up, pursing her full lips, "what I mean is: the last time you encountered a demon at Solas' bidding, he was attempting to help a good spirit. Could he had been trying to do this again?"

Astlyr shook her head, "you didn't see him right before the creature attacked us. He wasn't himself. And the demon just let him walk right past and leave without being harmed. I think whatever that giant fucker was, it was controlling him somehow."

"So what do we do then?" Sera asked, cocking her head so her uneven hair fell over her eye.

"We try to find him," Astlyr said. "We have to try to help him if we can."

"And kill 'im if we can't, right?" Sera rocked back, holding her feet together with her hands.

"Yes." Cole's voice was cold and it startled the group. "If he is a demon we have to kill him," he fixed his unnerving gaze on Astlyr again and she found she had to look away.

"For once you and me agree, creepy," Sera said sitting back up.

"We have men out searching," Cullen nodded thoughtfully. His hand rubbed his stubbly chin. "We're having another situation which is hampering our efforts, however."

"What now?" Astlyr felt annoyance prickling. It was always something.

"Snow," Blackwall explained. "Ever since your horse came back it has been snowing. Not a problem at first, but it's been going non stop."

"Caravans are having trouble getting to Skyhold," Josephine spoke as she balanced her writing board on her knees, checking over her notes. "My contacts have been slow to arrive as well. We are currently somewhat cut off."

"We're not completely cut off yet," Cullen raised a hand when Astlyr moved as if to rise. "People can still get in and out, but it is challenging, and Skyhold wasn't quite...winterized. A few of the disused rooms have snow in them, and we are finding that the outer rooms are too cold for habitation, but we're figuring it out. Just growing pains from our first winter here."

Astlyr sighed. She could see the worry on the tough warrior's face, though he tried not to show it. She saw him shoot Cole a warning look. "And I imagine it is difficult to track anyone with all this fresh fall," she filled in.

"Exactly." Cullen nodded.

"What about the big fuck-off monster?" asked Sera. "What happened? Did it just think you were dead and wander away to have a little nap someplace? Or maybe you did enough damage that it left to go die, yeah? Either way, hard to miss, right?"

"We're not certain what happened to the creature that attacked you," Josephine admitted. "Did you see it leave?"

"No," Astlyr admitted, "I passed out." She wasn't certain if she wanted to tell them about the green magic that had protected Dorian and herself. She glanced down at her palm where the anchor was as uninteresting as ever. However, as she flexed her fingers, she felt a prickle. Like she had burned her palm. This was new. When she closed a rift the pain usually subsided at once.

"You said you freed the creature by using your mark?" Vivienne asked, noticing that Astlyr was studying her hand.

"My mark, and Solas' magic. He said that the anchor is many things. This time it as though it was draining energy from me. It doesn't feel like that when I close a rift," she clarified.

"That right there," Sera folded her arms, "is when you stop doing whatever you're doing. When the freaky magic starts stealing your energy."

"I've never seen my mark do anything but open and close rifts," Astlyr scrutinized the anchor. It looked like the outline of a veil tear, etched in dark green on her skin. "He said it runs through me. It's connected to every part of me. I always wondered why Coryphius didn't just lop my hand off back in Haven. If he wanted it, why not take it? I guess he couldn't."

"Seems so," Vivienne stood back, tall and elegant as ever. Even her night attire was nicer than anything Astlyr owned.

"You said that the broken orb was there too?" Josie asked, quill pen now poised over paper.

"Yes," Astlyr nodded. "I think he would have used that instead of me, if it hadn't shattered."

"All this magic," Sera rolled her eyes expressively. "Doesn't anyone just do things any more?"

No one bothered to answer her as they all fell silent, pondering. Finally Cullen spoke, "Well, it should not be difficult to locate a creature of the size you fought. We'll find it eventually."

"It was a person before, yeah? Maybe it's a person again," Sera suggested.

"That's not how demons work," Varric answered her. "And believe me, I've seen plenty. They never go back to being people."

"Maybe it wasn't a demon." Sera pouted out her lower jaw. "Maybe it was a dragon-person like what's-her-boobs. The one who turned into a dragon in that final fight with Cory."

"Morrigan?" Cullen raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Her," Sera waved a dismissive hand. She seemingly deemed names of more than two syllables not worth her time.

"I suppose it is possible," Josephine agreed. "We could have someone draw a picture based on the man you saw before he turned into the...whatever he turned into."

"I'm not sure if I can recall him very well," Astlyr admitted. "I only saw him for a minute or two, and after that my attention was distracted by trying not to get eaten or stomped on."

"When the rest of our friends recover, they can help," Josephine said, her voice hopeful. Obviously she thought her idea a good one.

"They all we need to do is get out past all this snow to show people the picture," Blackwall pointed out, a little glumly. "Though I was thinking of trying to get some men together to check the surrounding area. I know of people whose homes are in bits. They are not ready for such an aggressive early winter. I could take some of your pictures then."

"Alright," Astlyr yawned, "I think we have a basic plan. Now, my brain is going to melt out my ears if we keep talking so late. Get some sleep everyone. We'll discuss this further in the morning."

Nodding and stretching the group dispersed. Even Cole moved away to sit on a bed, injured leg stretched in front of him, the book Astlyr had given him open in his lap. As Cullen rose stiffly from his chair to follow the others Astlyr got his attention. "Cullen," she searched his weary features. "Have you slept?"

He gave a dry chuckle and sat back down with a graceless motion. He reached up a hand and massaged his temples. "A little."

"I know how you are," Astlyr shook her head in dismay. "With all that's been going on you've been insisting on micromanaging everything. You need to delegate more. Like me. I delegate to you," she smirked, hoping he would smile. She was rewarded only with a slight upturn of his lips.

"I've had a few rough lyrium nights," he said, dismissive.

"Cullen. Look at me." He lifted his head, hazel eyes meeting her green. "You need to rest, alright? We're back, and we're not going to die, and anyway Skyhold is covered in snow. I give you permission to hide out in my room if you like. I won't be using it for a few days," she nodded towards herself, "I can't even sit up in a bed without help, let alone climb stairs."

Cullen gave her a small chuckle, still gazing at her with a kind of calmness that had not been on his face before. "Perhaps I will."

"No," she said, her lip quirking in a half grin, "no 'perhaps'. It's an order. Yes. An order from your Inquisitor. I'm still the big dog around here right? I order you to hide out and rest."

"Yes ma'am," he said in a quiet tone, making a playful salute with his good arm. He stood slowly, no longer looking quite as beaten down. He met her eyes again before leaving the room and gave her a nod. "Good sleep, my friend."

She nodded back as he turned and departed. Astlyr heaved a sigh. Cole looked up from his book. "He's afraid. Eyes are always on him. Faces turned up and waiting, wanting, watching for orders. He tells them how to survive, but he's not certain how to himself."

"I know," Astlyr said, heart feeling heavy.

"You and he are afraid of the same thing," Cole's voice was matter-of-fact. "Everyone else thinks you have already lived up to expectations." Astlyr could just make out his drawn smile from across the room.

"Maybe," she chuckled. "But new expectations are always being made. Cole, can you help Cullen sleep with your power?"

"Yes, but he has asked me not to do that sort of thing with him," Cole seemed a little upset. "I do not understand when people ask me not to help them. People here at Skyhold see me, and remember me, so I cannot help them as easily."

"Your friends see and remember you," Astlyr's voice was soft. "I think that's a good thing."

"It is," Cole nodded, his hat flopping. "But I do not understand why some of my friends wish to feel pain when I could help them."

Astlyr considered this for a moment. "You often do little things to help people overcome their pain on their own. Perhaps some of us like to do those little things for ourselves."

Cole nodded again, turning back to his book. She was uncertain if he understood, or had decided this topic too confusing to continue. She looked down at her arms. Two useless hunks of flesh and shattered bone. She knew they would heal, but they could never do it fast enough to please her. She had to get out of bed and start seeing to Skyhold. She couldn't let Cullen handle things on his own, as he clearly had been. Without her, without Cassandra, to aid him, the warrior would wear himself down to nothing.

"Astlyr," a voice hissed to her.

She blinked, turning her head to see Dorian's dark eyes watching her. She took in a quick breath, surprised to see him awake. "Dorian?"

"Shh," he urged her. "I don't want to be fussed over. I want to talk to you." the mage said, furtively.

Astlyr carefully and painstakingly scooted to the edge of her bed to be nearer her friend. He did not move much, and she suspected he was in considerably more pain than herself, as she leaned her head to listen for his soft voice. She heard a quiet chuckle. "You look fantastic."

She felt a natural smile flicker to her lips, "not as fantastic as you."

"Oh good," he heaved a sigh, grimacing, "because I feel like someone put me in a sack and dragged me behind a horse."

"Well, you look it."

"Astlyr," his face grew serious again as he spoke, "am I crazy? I remember something right before we passed out. I said something stirring about a blaze of glory and then..."

"We grabbed each others hands," Astlyr filled in, looking down at her hand on the bed.

"Right. And when we did, something happened. Maybe I was just hallucinating? I was in a considerable amount of pain, but somehow I felt as though an energy was passing from you into me. Not like lyrium. It was like something else. Something I have never experienced."

"So I didn't imagine it either?" she felt relieved. "I think what happened with me and the mirror happened with us."

"Yes, but it has never happened before that. I've never felt anything when I've stood beside you as you closed rifts," Dorian muttered, clearly pondering. He made a frustrated sound, this hissed in air through his teeth and winced, "Have you figured out how to not breath? Because breathing is getting on my nerves," he said, weakly.

"I healers could give you something," Astlyr pointed out. "Not to stop you breathing," she put in hastily. "Just to stop you hurting."

"Those things always make me fuzzy," he raised his hand fractionally to gesture towards his head. "I wanted to be clear while we talked about this. I've been a mage my whole life, and I've had the very best lyrium. The really pure shit that makes you a little bit high and you think you just might be able to take over the world. Never anything like what I felt when we were touching hands."

"Maybe my touch is just that powerful," Astlyr grinned.

"Oh hush, you," Dorian scolded, "I am trying to be serious and I have the sarcastic qunari to talk to.

"I'm sorry," Astlyr made a show to contorting her face into a mask of civility.

"No. That's worse," Dorian smirked, "a well behaved qunari is almost as rare as sarcastic one."

"So," Astlyr said, thoughtful, "you've never felt power like the green stuff that we seemed to generate when we were holding hands. Alright. So let's try it again." She carefully slid her splinted arm down to reach between the beds. She winced as pain shot up her limb, and hoped Cole had enough sense to leave them alone for the moment.

"Oh good," Dorian eased his own hand towards hers, "nothing like a little experimenting with powerful magics when we're both beaten within an inch of our lives."

"Just shut up and hold my hand," she quipped, feeling her fingers interlace with his. His warm palm pressed against the anchor mark. Both lay as still as they could, watching their joined hands as though waiting for a fireworks show.

"How long do we hold hands before we decide this isn't working?" Dorian asked after a long moment of awkwardness.

Astlyr considered. "Maybe it matters what you're thinking about. With the archway Solas told me to concentrate on my task. Maybe we need to be think of the same thing. What was on your mind when we...did whatever we did."

"I believe I was thinking: 'Oh Maker, oh maker, I'm going to die and I've never been in love.'" Dorian smirked.

"Hmmmm, as I recall I was thinking basically the same thing."

"You've never been in love?" Dorian cocked his head slightly on his pillow, "what about Iron Bull?"

"Oh, I love Iron Bull, and the sex is fantastic," she raised her eyebrows meaningfully and Dorian snorted, "But I don't think I'm _in_ love with him."

"I see," Dorian's brows came together, "Erm, Astlyr, m'gel, if we are going to keep having this conversation can we stop awkwardly holding hands?"

"Oh, sorry. We seem to have a focus problem," she chuckled, "alright, this time I'll concentrate on giving you energy and I suppose you should concentrate on receiving it."

"Er, alright," Dorian said, uncertainly.

Astlyr closed her eyes trying to convince her ever busy mind that it needed to buckle down to one subject and one subject only. _Alright, mysterious powers. I need you to go to my friend Dorian over there. I command you to go. Please go? _She opened one eye, hoping to see their clasped hands glowing green. No such luck, though one of the guards had noticed their attempts and was eying them confusedly. "Maybe we need to be closer to death. Do you suppose one of the guards would stab me with a dagger. Just a little?"

Dorian's eyes popped open and he glared at her. "Stop joking around," he said, though he had obvious trouble keeping his smile under control. His mustache twitched comically.

The two let their hands fall away from each other. Astlyr sighed, painfully pulling her arm back up beside her on the bed. "Maybe I just don't have any energy to give you."

"Perhaps. Perhaps other requirements must be met. It may be like one of those complicated spells that calls for material components. I always hated those. So much work for so little payoff."

"If you say so," Astlyr said, looking down at her hand, though she could barely make out her mark in the dimness.

"Alright," Dorian sounded resigned, "now that we are finished with that experiment. Ouch!" he announced loudly. In seconds Cole had appeared at his side and was using his ability to lessen the mage's pain as two healers rushed to fussed over him. He gave Astlyr a meaningful smirk and she laughed.

Healing was a slow process. Not aided by Astlyr's natural affinity for being outdoors and moving. The healers were almost as fed up with her as they had been with Cole. The boy, for his part, seemed amused by her refusal to stay in bed when she had insisted that he do so.

"Inquisitor," Audra pleaded for the third time that day, "The muscle of your leg was badly damaged. If you walk on it before it's ready you'll do yourself more harm. And would you stop using that broken arm? Blast it! You're never going to heal."

Nights she walked in the Fade with the black wolf. The creature now seemed glued to her side. They had even ventured into some mountains one night in her dreams. A shadowy spirit lurked there, watchful. Fen'Harel sensed it at once and his fur bristled. Gleaming teeth were bared and the spirit slunk away as if ashamed. Often the wolf were nuzzle Astlyr's left hand, and her mark would spring to life, glowing the sickly green of Fade magic. When she woke, however, it was only a matter of moments before the memories of her nightly sojourns with the wolf god would slip from her again.

Astlyr had come to know the Myfanwy a bit better in her days in the infirmary. It seemed that the elivish woman has a skill with drawing, and soon Astlyr and her companions were describing the man they had seen to her so that she could make a sketch. Now if only they could any of them agree on what the elf who had transformed into a giant dragon-creature had looked like.

"Astlyr got the best view of him, I believe," said Cassandra, wrinkling her proud nose as Myfanwy sketched and re-sketched.

"I'd like to remind you that I had head trauma," Varric pointed out. "I can't be asked to remember things."

Astlyr looked fondly from the warrior woman to the dwarf. When Cassandra had woken the morning after Astlyr had she had asked to speak with Astlyr almost at once. The qunari had been helped into a chair at her friend's bedside. "Inquisitor," Cas sounded formal, and she looked as stern as possible for someone suffering from crush wounds. She also seemed to be having trouble finding the words she wanted. "Inquisitor..." she began again, brows coming together, "I... what I wanted to say to you was...Rrrrgh!" she made an aggravated sound then turned her head, "Cole, come here please," she called to the spirit boy, who was helping one of the healers nearby.

"Yes, Cassandra?" Cole answered, setting down the bowl of herb infused water in which a healer had been soaking rags to lay across Iron Bull's brow. He teleported over to stand at Cas's other side.

"Please tell the Inquisitor what I wish to say," Cassandra instructed him.

Cole nodded, concentrated for a moment, and tilted his chin up so Astlyr could see his eyes under his hat brim. "I broke formation. I should not have. It was stupid of me. I want to be certain it never happens again. I know I am better. I am disappointed in myself. Angry. Like bees in my mind. Swarming over and over that moment until I cannot forget. Leaving little footprints in the marmalade. I will not make that mistake again."

"You went to protect Varric," Astlyr pointed out, placing a hand on Cassandra's shoulder.

"It does not change the fact that I should have done as I was ordered," Cas said, solemnly. "It was a battle and I am a soldier. I knew better."

"Varric is my friend... and my responsibility," Cole was speaking again. "I brought him here. Everything that happens to him after that is my fault. Any injury is my doing. I am to blame. I will take...take the blame always on myself."

Cassandra flinched, "alright," she said tightly, "that is enough, Cole. You were helpful."

The boy nodded, though he looked worried. Clearly he could tell that she was not pleased with him any more.

Astlyr glanced up subtly towards Varric's bed. She felt certain she caught the flicker of his eyes snapping shut. She did not say anything as the dwarf did a passable job of looking asleep.

Now Astlyr passed her days in relative bordom. Josie made certain to stop in at least once every day to talk about what was going on with the rest of the world, at least what information she could get. The blizzard which had gripped SkyHold lasted for three days and when it finally abated. The task of highest import became that of digging out. The road to the Hinterlands below the mountains where SkyHold perched was rendered completely impassible by snow and ice. Some merchants had even become trapped at the fortress by the weather. From what Astlyr heard, they were vocal in their complaint about this, but actually seemed to be enjoying the vacation as they ate and drank at SkyHold's popular tavern.

Most days Cullen made a point to visit with his chess board. He would talk shop with Astlyr about the issues that they were having getting Skyhold up to snuff for the sudden winter. She gave what advice she could, though she felt woefully inexperienced.

Dorian routinely beat everyone at chess, while Cullen and Astlyr were evenly matched. "You could be better if you were more patient, my dear," Vivienne told her once when the enchantress stopped in for a game.

"If I know one thing about Astlyr," said Iron Bull, who was recovering slowly, his wounds having been the most severe, "it is that she is not a patient person."

"Oh, thank you," Astlyr rolled her eyes.

Everyone agreed that Cole was not allowed to play chess any more because he was able to predict their movement with accuracy. The boy merely shrugged, saying he enjoyed watching as much as playing.

Guardswoman Jones had her watch over the unconscious elf every night,and she would spend some time chatting with the Inquisitor. Astlyr enjoyed the woman's company immensely. Esther Jones had taken up a fascination with Astlyr hair, and the qunari would often let her braid it. "The color is so interesting. Like strands of snow." Jones said, sitting crosslegged behind Astlyr, who sat at the edge of her bed. "I know most qunari have white hair, but I still find it so beautiful."

Astlyr shrugged, "I suppose. I often felt that it was boring. No color, like other people's. I have heard that some of my people have black hair, but I've never seen it." She didn't bother to clarify that this was because the only other qunari she had seen up close were her own parents and Iron Bull. Often she didn't even feel like a proper qunari at all.

"And it's so thick," Jones went on, braiding skillfully. Astlyr had learned that Jones had five younger sisters and she had always been in charge of their appearance, which included seeing to their hair.

Astlyr glanced across the room to see Myfanwy watching and smiling. The elf's dark eyes shone in the low evening light from the fire and interspersed candles.

"I have a few of the beads my mother always wore in her hair up in my room. Maybe I should go fetch them," Astlyr offered the guardswoman.

"Oh, that would be wonderful," Jones said.

A few of the nearby guards chuckled. Dorian, who was sitting up reading, glancing over the top of his book, "you really are portraying a hardened warrior tonight, m'gel."

"Shut your mouth, that's an order," Astlyr snapped in her best military bark. It would have done Cullen or Cassandra proud.

Dorian just laughed at her, eyes twinkling with mirth. Then he retreated back behind his reading as Astlyr loudly muttered things about what they did with insubordinate mages in the inquisition. Cole limped over to her. He still used the cane, but his leg was significantly improved. "I can go get the beads for you," he offered.

Before he could teleport away Astlyr raised her hand in a forestalling motion. "No, no, Cole. I can manage. Me being down here in the infirmary is mostly just a formality anyway. Time to stretch the old legs a bit."

"I don't want to see you using that arm," Astlyr jumped. She hadn't even known that Audra was paying attention. The healer had seemingly been in conversation with Iron Bull.

"Of course," Astlyr said, hurriedly, raising her eyebrows at Cole who gave her a fleeting smile before poofing away to join Audra.

Astlyr stood slowly, careful not to put much weight on her bad leg. If she was honest it barely twinged. Superior qunari healing ability and pain tolerance, she thought a little smugly as she limped from the room. She took her time through the darkened SkyHold, careful stairs to go slowly on the stairs to spare her injured limbs any stress. The place was quiet. Even in the main hall, where some people were still sleeping for warmth near the large fireplaces, which were designed to heat higher floors with their massive chimneys.

Astlyr peered into the darkness of her quarters and knew at once that she was not alone. Her instinct prickled for a moment, but she relaxed almost at once. There was a figure on her bed. She could just make out his golden hair in the moonlight from her tall windows. The fire he had lit was guttering in the hearth and his dayclothes were folded neatly on one of her chairs. She smiled as she tiptoed as best she could over to her dressing table. She had to admit to herself that one of her main reasons for continuing to sleep in the infirmary was so that Cullen could continue to use her room as his haven. It seemed clear that his men had not figured out that this was where he had been retreating to.

As she selected the hair beads from a special box on her dressing table she listened carefully to his breathing. Deep and peaceful. Good. She turned and began to limp out, but hesitated as she reached the stairs, hand poised on the railing. His face was turned towards her, washed with moonlight and she smiled at how restful he looked. She did not often get to see him without a hard line of tension between his eyebrows. For a moment she the urge to go to him and touch his face. She almost laughed at herself for the thought, and limped carefully out of the room.

The next day found Dorian and Astlyr sitting on the same bed facing one another, attempting to get the odd magical power to work again. "I really think this could be the answer to waking him up," Dorian nodded in the direction of the slumbering elf. Their unconscious guest was beginning to look wan now. His cheeks becoming sunken. The healers did their best to feed him and keep him hydrated, but their methods were imperfect.

"Why would a god sleep so long to regain power if it will kill the body he's inhabiting?" Astlyr asked, pressing her palm to Dorians. She had stopped bothering to feel embarrassed as the others watched their awkward attempts.

"Remember that he doesn't need the body to be alive for it to function," Cassandra pointed out. She was half watching them, and half reading one of Varric's latest books. Cole read over her shoulder, which she seemed to encourage, often asking him when he was ready to turn the page.

"I suppose," Astlyr mused, "though being inside a dead bird didn't seem to be good for him. I wonder if a dead person is the same."

Myfanwy had lifted her head from her drawing and was looking at Astlyr with a deep sadness. "Please do not let him die," she said, her voice very small and quiet.

"What was that, Puppy?" Varric was stretched out on his bed, fingers laced behind his head as he relaxed. He had given the elven woman one of his fond nicknames. At first she had been insulted, but one of the guards explained that being given a nickname by Varric was actually a sign that she was seen as an ally by the group.

Myfanwy's face was suddenly drawn. "I...I know that there is little of my brother left inside this body," she cleared her throat.

"Do you want me to help?" asked Cole, gently.

"No," the elf waved him off with a tentative motion, "I can speak for myself. She swallowed and tried again. "If the body dies, whatever is left of my brother...his memories, which the god might use, may be lost. I do not wish to lose whatever of Daveth remains. I know this is selfish," she hung her head.

"Puppy," Varric stood up and crossed to her, clearly shocking her as he wrapped her in a hug. "No one wants you to have to give that up either. Which is why the Inquisitor and her friends are working hard to wake him."

Myfanwy bit her lip as she allowed herself to be embraced by the dwarf. Astlyr could see anger behind the elf's eyes and she saw Cole flinch from across the room. She knew that the woman was angry at her for not using the idol to wake 'Fen'Harel'. She felt uncertain herself. Perhaps she should have tried it. There was a reasonable chance that it would not have killed any good spirits. She glanced at Cole, taking in his slumped shoulders, his expression sadder than usual. He could feel the conflicting worries and fears, and there was no way to help everyone in the room. A look of pain crossed his face and he withdrew, hugging himself.

Astlyr felt her temper flare. She pulled her hand away from Dorian's a rose with a motion that was just a little too quick. Pain sliced up her leg, but she ignored it, limping over to stand at the bedside of the elf.

"What are you thinking, Kadan?" Iron Bull asked. He was propped up with many pillows and had appeared to be dozing.

Astlyr didn't answer, but she felt her temper still flaring. Anger with herself, and her lack of resolve. Without thought she pressed her left palm, perhaps a bit too firmly, onto the chest of the unconscious elf. Pain lanced up her broken arm and she felt the air huff from the supposed god's chest with her motion. Myfanwy tensed, clearly using to a lot of restraint to keep herself from pulling Astlyr away.

Astlyr ground her teeth, glaring down at the slumbering figure. "Listen here, pal. We're had about enough of this! If you're a god, you can bloody wake up and deal with whatever it is you gods have to deal with, and you can leave me and friends alone if it's all the same. So, wake the fuck up!"

To everyone's shock, not the least of which Astlyr's, a bright green light sprang to life from beneath her hand. Tendrils of emerald electricity jumped and sparked from between her fingers. She jerked back in surprise, but found, as it had been with the stone prison from which they had freed the dragon-man, she could not remove her hand. Her friends and the guards moved closer.

"Astlyr?" Dorian asked, tentatively.

"Yes?" she spoke between gritted teeth. She could feel the pull. Her energy being drawn from her and towards the man on the bed.

"How are you doing that?"

"I have no idea," she ground out. She already felt breathless, as if she had gone for a good run. The elf was drawing her energy from her with much more speed than the stone doorway had. Seconds later her legs felt weary and she had to fight to remain standing. The man did not move as the green light from her hand washed over him, sparking and coiling, splashing both their faces with an emerald glow.

"Can we make it stop?" Cole asked, appearing beside Astlyr. She felt the boy grip her good arm, helping her stand. He placed her hand on his shoulder so she could use him to prop herself up, though she was careful not to put too much weight on him because of his leg.

Then someone else stepped in, pulling Astlyr's arm over a slender shoulder. It was Myfanwy, "what can we do?"

"I don't know," Astlyr managed. Because of her awkward position leaning over the man it was all she could do not to overbalance and fall forward onto him. Myfanway was clearly giving it her best effort to keep the much taller and heavier Astlyr upright. A guard moved closer and stood on the other side of the bed, extending a hand to Astlyr's shoulder, he helped prop her upright. She bit back a sound of annoyance. The greedy fucker was taking all her energy. It felt as though she had not eaten in days. She knew she was visibly shaking. She could feel her friends drawing near, uncertain and worried. And still the elf pull more strength from her. She tried to take her hand away and only succeeded in making her arm pound with pain. "Fen'Harel," her voice was small and strangled. "Stop...please."

Her hand was released and she toppled to the floor, almost landing on Myfanwy. She scrambled to her hands and knees, aided by Cole and a few more of the guards. Then she heard the familiar sound of swords being drawn and felt the crackle of magic being readied. She pulled herself to her knees using the bed and peered at the elf on the mattress. He twitched, then spasmed, back arching, hands grappling with the sheets. He made a strangled sound, then went limp. Finally, as she watched, his eyes opened and he blinked slowly.

Astlyr felt herself being pulled backwards. Two guards had her under her arms and were attempting to get her clear. "No. Wait," she gasped as the elf gazed around himself with only his eyes.

Then he turned his head towards her, and she met his gaze. Blue. His eyes were blue, just like the wolf in her dreams. Just like... He spoke. Something in elvish she could not understand. His words seemed mumbled. Garbled, even for a language she didn't speak. Astlyr looked to Myfanwy, who was standing back, mouth agape. A single tear left a trail down the elvish woman's fair cheek. "What did he say?" Astlyr asked.

"I don't know," Myfanwy admitted. "It's not the language my people speak. Some sounds are the same, but..."

"Mmmm," the man on the bed seemed to be trying again. His eyes locked on Astlyr, brow tight with concentration or pain, she wasn't certain which. "Mmmm-my fr-friend." he managed to croak. Astlyr was positive this time, and she could tell by the gasps of surprise that she heard from her friends, that he was indeed spoken with the voice of Solas.

****Everyone was so quiet after the last chapter! Were you all worried I'd killed off your favorite characters? Don't worry! Now we know they're okay! ;)

So...he's awake! What sort of tale will he tell...with Solas' voice!?  
>Keep in mind my goal with this story is to make it seem as though this could happen after the end of the game (however unlikely). So, as always, if anything contradicts actual canon feel free to let me know! :D<br>In other news, I decided that a few grey wardens stuck around instead of all going to do whatever they were doing at the end of the game (I can't remember LOL)  
>So as always, feel free to comment with any thoughts, etc. PS. Your comments give me warm fuzzies of joy! Talk to me, I'm so alone! ;)<br>See you all next week!  
>Next: 25/15


	9. Chapter 9

*****Here it is! The chapter you have (probably) all been waiting for! Man, I have tweaked and re-tweaked this chapter more than any other (and it is probably still full of errors lol). I start to get a bit more groovy with the lore in this one. Hopefully everyone will like where I take it! Enjoy!

Random translation: "M'gel" (said by Dorian in previous chapter) Translation: "my girl". His pet name for Astlyr. My husband says that he had no idea, so I figured I better explain that one ;) ;)*******

**Part 9  
>What Pride Hath Wrought<strong>

Astlyr was sitting on the floor, staring. Her mouth was slightly ajar, and her brain felt as though someone had replaced it with a sponge. It was too slow to respond to the words of the man on the bed. He had not taken his eyes from her baffled face, though his expression had grown more concerned. Uncertain. Finally he did look away and his eyes grew wide as he took in the swords and magic aimed at him.

"Go get Cullen," Astlyr heard Cassandra order one of the healers.

"Who-"Astlyr was having trouble forming words. Her thoughts seemed to have been locked down, as well as all her energy stolen, by the elf on the bed. He spoke again, in the garbled elvish, his lips moving quickly, his expression one of fear.

"Who the fuck are you?" Astlyr growled. Far more guttural and feral than she would have liked.

He looked back at her now, and a tear ran from his eye and down the side of his face towards his ear. "I am called...what am I called?"

"They curse me, the people," Cole was speaking. Astlyr glanced at him to see a look of intensity on his wan face. "They say I am a murderer, but I am not. I tried. I tried to help them. They asked me and I acted. I made a mistake and almost killed the world. The people use my name to curse. They spit at my image and I frighten their children. 'Eat your dinner or the wolf will get you.' 'Stay in the camp or the wolf will find you. I am alone. So utterly alone. Hollow, howling, haunted, hunted, hurting. Why?" Cole hugged himself, shoulders hunched, seeming almost to collapse in on himself. "Oh Astlyr, he is so sad," the boy's voice had a quaver to it. "And there is so much. I cannot even make him forget because there is too much!"

"My lord?" Myfanwy spoke, stepping closer. "I am here to serve you. What can I do?"

The man did not speak, but blinked at Astlyr a few times. "You are the dragon's daughter," he said after a long moment, seeming to have come to some kind of conclusion. "I remember you."

"The who now?" Varric asked, eyebrow raised.

"I'm Astlyr," the qunari said, keeping her voice as gentle as she could. Trying to sound less dangerous than the last time she had spoken. She was still feeling annoyed at having so much of her energy stolen.

"Astlyr. Yes. Astlyr Adaar. Your name means...strong weapon." he said, still thoughtful. His eyes looked less focused.

"If you say so," Astlyr sighed, sitting back on her heels. "But who are you?"

"I am..." the man hesitated again, his brow furrowed, "I am called Daveth. No. I _was_ called Daveth. And I think...was I flying at one point?"

Astlyr almost chuckled. Now he was beginning to sound like Solas in more than just voice. "You inhabited a dead bird."

"Interesting," the man exhaled.

Astlyr raised her good arm, signaling the guards and mages to lower their weapons, though most did not sheath their blades.

"Would anyone like to explain why he sounds like Chuckles?" Varric asked.

"I know you, child of the Stone," the man met Varric's eyes. He looked around again, taking in the other faces, "and you," his gaze held Cassandra's for a long moment.

"Do you?" the woman asked. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, obviously ignoring any pain she must have been in.

"Are you a spirit?" asked Dorian, curiously.

"I do not believe so," the man began to move carefully. The guards aimed weapons at him again, and Astlyr let them. The elf pushed himself clumsily upright to lean against the headboard of the bed. That accomplished he spent a moment breathing heavily, as though the action was extremely wearying. "There is no need for all of these weapons," he said between panting breaths. "I intend you no harm."

"Forgive us if we don't feel reassured," Dorian said, eyebrow raised.

"My lord," Myfanwy tried again, this time sitting at the end of the bed, "is there anything that you need?"

"Food?" The man said, his expression hopeful.

"He's awake?" Cullen strode into the room and took in the scene.

"Awake and strange," said Varric, folding his arms.

"Why is Astlyr on the floor?" the commander asked urgently.

"Don't worry, Cullen" Cassandra stopped him with her words as he strode purposefully towards the qunari. "We'll sort that out in a moment. Right now she seems to be communing with...whoever this is."

"Alright," with an effort Astlyr pulled herself up to sit on the bed before Cullen could grow more concerned. The elf pulled his legs out of her way. "Are you a god or aren't you? We were told that you might be the elven god Fen'Harel. Is this true?"

"Like he would tell us the truth," she heard Varric grumble from behind her.

"I am the one called Fen'Harel," the man admitted, though his expression was uncertain. "Perhaps I was not supposed to tell you that. The last time you saw me, you called me Solas because that was the name of the body I inhabited. Would you like to call me Daveth now?"

Astlyr was struck speechless for a long moment. As was everyone else, judging by the silence that reigned in the infirmary. "What?" Astlyr's question was more of an exhalation of breath than anything.

The elf seemed confused, "would you like to call me Daveth?"

"No," Astlyr waved away his words like a pesky gnat, "what did you say about Solas?"

"I was called Solas. Did you call me Solas? It sounds right when you say it, so you must have," he shook his head slightly, and his dark curls fell in his eyes. He blinked, "Hair. It has been a long time."

"No," Astlyr felt her lip curl. "You're not Solas. I _saw _Solas while you were here, laying in that bed and taking up space. What are you?" her voice was rising again, sounding more angry. "Are you able to take thoughts from my mind? Memories? Because I have encountered demons like you before and they didn't last long."

Cole stepped forward slightly, hand pressed to his chest, a tense look in his eyes. "I don't think he is a demon. Demons feel empty. They have nothing left inside them but shadow. He is full of memories. Of sadness. He doesn't sing thoughts like death. Demons don't know any other song."

"Oh well, if he doesn't feel demon-y," Varric snarked.

"Hush," Astlyr's order was firmer than she intended, though it had the desired effect. "I know you cannot be Solas, because I saw Solas. I cannot be certain that you are a god either. What the hell am I supposed to do with you?"

The elven man seemed to consider her for a long moment. "Dream," he said, finally.

"What?" Cullen leaned forward as though he had heard incorrectly.

Myfanwy broke through the confused moment to hand 'Fen'Harel' a piece of bread from the basket that the kitchen always sent up for those in the infirmary. The man took and and bit greedily, though he kept his eyes focused on Astlyr's. She found it difficult to continue to meet his gaze. It was alarming how much she felt that she knew those eyes.

Audra the healer stepped forward, almost timidly, which was rare for her. "May I examine him?" she asked.

Astlyr moved slightly, and with some difficulty, to make room. The woman felt the elf's pulse and checked his eyes. She even had him open his mouth so she could look at his throat. Satisfied, she stood back. "As I would have suspected. He's a bit dehydrated and under nourished, but well enough."

The elf polished off the bread Myfanwy had given him and looked eager for more. Myfanwy handed him a cup of water next, which he drank all at once, leaving some dripping down his chin.

"Alright, as you can see, we mean you no harm. In fact, quite the opposite," Astlyr said, beginning to feel a little calmer herself. Not many demons she had seen could remain as passive as this man when surrounded by so many weapons, but then again perhaps they were merely under its thrall.

"I do not think it is a demon," Cole reassured her, having obviously sensed her continued concerns on the subject.

"I can believe you are a spirit," Astlyr pressed on. "We welcome friendly spirits," she gestured towards Cole. "I may even be convinced that you are a god...or at least believe yourself to be one. I've met a few of those too. I even met a woman claiming my be Mythal, which I am told is another eleven deity," she glanced at Myfanwy for confirmation. "Where I begin to have trouble is when you also claim to be a friend of mine, whom I recently saw with my own eyes."

The supposed Fen'Harel sighed deeply. "Yes. Mythal. We will speak of her later. But please, believe that I _am_ your friend, Astlyr. The name Solas was the name of the man whose body I inhabited. Just as I inhabit the one called Daveth now. It is very confusing, I understand, which I why I do not tell people of it. This situation necessitates me to reveal far more than I would like." He was becoming more confident with his speech, Astlyr noticed. The confused expression was fading from his face. "If you would dream, I could meet you and explain in a far more satisfying way."

"Dream?" Astlyr rasied an eyebrow. "You mean go into the Fade?"

"Yes," the man dipped his head in a gesture that reminded Astlyr of an animal.

"Oh, I really don't think so," Dorian spoke up. "If this person is a demon the Fade is the perfect place to trap and kill you. He's asking you to serve yourself to him on a platter."

"That will not being happening," Cullen put in, his eyes steely.

"You do not trust me. I understand," said the man, not lowering his eyes. "It is the best way."

"Dorian, could you wake me magically if needed?" Astlyr turned to her friend.

Everyone in the room, including the guards, scoffed vocally. "You can't be serious, Kadan," Iron Bull's voice was the loudest.

"I am," she felt the fingers of her good hand tighten into a fist. "Cole, you can keep an eye on my emotional state while I sleep and Dorian, you can wake me up if Cole says so."

"And if the demon, which we can already gather is highly manipulative, convinces you to be happy about having your soul eaten?" Dorian folded his arms. "No. I won't allow you to do this."

"Dorian," she turned fully around to face her friend. He was standing beside his bed, hand clasped over the wound in his side. A healer hovered nearby but seemed afraid to try to make him sit. Astlyr met his dark eyes. "I am going to fall asleep sometime and when I do I suspect he will be able to find me there. We may as well do it this way, with many precautions in place."

"Perhaps we should fetch Morrigan. Or Vivienne," Audra said, uncertainly. "Perhaps their magics..."

Dorian bristled, "My magic would do as well, or better, than theirs. Besides, you know that Vivienne would have you declared insane for even considering this, and petition to remove you from the status of Inquisitor. I'm half way there myself."

"Perhaps Morrigan would know more about this elven god business," Cassandra pointed out.

Astlyr chewed her lip. She was hurting her friends and she hated it. She turned to Cole, who was standing in the shadows, his whole body tense. "What do you think, Cole?"

"Not a demon," Cole shook his head, but he kept his face turned down, obscured by his hat. "Demons chafe when they meet me. He has not had any dark thoughts of me. His pain is older. Broader and bigger. He is very old, but not a demon. No. I don't think so."

"Would you watch over my thoughts and emotions while I dream with him?" Astlyr asked, wishing he would meet her eyes.

"It is dangerous to walk in dreams, Astlyr," he said. "But I could follow you."

"You...of course," she snapped his fingers and winced, "Right! As a spirit you could follow me into the Fade to see."

"Yes."

"Will you?"

"Yes." Cole's shoulders did not lose any of their tension,

"What about it?" she asked her friends. "What if Cole dreams with us?"

"I'm just going on record as saying this is an extremely bad idea," said Dorian, easing himself down to sit on his bed again.

"But you'll help?" Astlyr asked, standing slowly. She found that some of her strength had returned and she was able to cross to her friend and sit beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

"If you're determined to do this, I of course I'll help," he sighed, leaning against her. "I won't like it, but I won't abandon you to the Fade with a potential demon and only little Cole for protection."

Cole did not seem insulted by this, though very little seemed to bother him in that way. Instead he stood quietly, touching the amulet he wore which prevented him from being corrupted by man or demon.

"You really want to do this?" Cassandra asked, dark eyes showing her concern.

"Want to? No," Astlyr admitted, "but I feel that I should. We need to get to the bottom of this demon or god issue. If he does turn out to be evil, well, we'll do our best to fight it, as we always have."

Varric shook his head, "sometimes I think you're more than a little insane, Pointy."

Astlyr chuckled, "Bull?" she asked, meeting her lover's gaze.

He heaved a sigh which made him wince, "I really don't like the idea of you going in there. I hate the Fade and I haven't kept that a secret, but if anyone can handle It, it's you. You've been in there in the flesh a couple of times, how bad can dreaming there be?"

"Bad," Cullen said, his voice low. He wouldn't look at Astlyr.

"Alright," Astlyr sighed and glanced at the elf on the bed. He was watching her with bright eyes which seemed to see deeply into her mind. She wished that he would stop. "We'll try this dreaming thing. One sign of trouble, you should know that my people will kill us both, without hesitation." This was a lie and she knew it. Certainly they would not hesitate to murder the elf should he show any signs of demon behavior, but she knew they would be slower to kill her. She tried not to think about it.

Astlyr stood and moved back towards her own bed. Cullen crossed to her with quick steps, grasping her upper arm a bit too hard. He leaned into her, whispering fiercely, "Astlyr, don't do this. You have no idea what demons can do. What you might be dealing with."

"I've faced demons before. I've been in the Fade in person twice," she felt a cold bitterness rise in her throat, "can you say the same?"

"I cannot," he hissed, his fingers digging into the hard muscle of her bicep. At least he was holding her good arm, she thought wryly. "But I have dealt with demons, and you know that, and it almost...it almost broke my mind. You're strong Astlyr, but if you go into a demon's realm it could destroy your mind, not your body."

Astlyr reached up and loosened his fingers from her arm with a grimace. "Your point is taken, Cullen, but I have to try this."

"Find another way," he snarled. She had not seen him like this since she spoken to him of his lyrium addiction months before.

She felt the urge to push him away from herself, but she managed to restrain her temper. She didn't have the energy to fight with her dear friend in that moment. "We can discuss my stupidity when I wake up," she said, keeping her voice low, her words for him alone. "You can berate me to your heart's content. But right now, I need to find out. If I don't, we'll be treading in a dark room forever, never certain if our next step will be onto a blade."

Cullen said nothing, but dropped his hand from her arm. His gold flecked, hazel eyes flicked up to meet hers then moved to examine the floor as he stepped back from her. For the briefest moment she felt abandoned. Like a boat set adrift. She shook off the feeling with annoyance and lay down on her infirmary bed.

Cole walked over and climbed onto the bed as well, sitting cross legged at the foot, the small of his back against the low footboard. He folded his hands in his lap, watching her from beneath his hat rim. She knew he had sensed every negative emotion flooding from Cullen and herself, and was grateful to him for saying nothing. She knew that it could be difficult for him not to express what he could sense strongly. He must have detected her gratitude because the quickest of smiles quirked one corner of his mouth before vanishing like a moth on a breeze.

"Alright," Astlyr arranged herself comfortably, "How do we do this? I just go to sleep and I'm in the Fade?" She knew that the Fade was where she had been spending many of her nights of late.

"I believe so," said the self proclaimed Dread Wolf.

Cole merely closed his eyes, his face becoming passive and meditative. Astlyr shook her head, if only it was that easy for her. "Dorian, would you put a sleep spell on me?" she asked.

The other mages were already moving about at the Tevinter mage's instructions. Laying down complicated wards on the floor around her bed and that of the elf. Myfanwy and the healers stood back, looking uneasy. One of the guards was a templar, and his expression matched Cullen's in dark severity. Dorian raised an arm towards Astlyr from where he lay. "You're absolutely certain this is what you want?" he asked, hand poised to cast.

"Yes," she said, firmly.

Dorian mumbled a word, twisting his hand slightly, and a thin purple magic slithered from his fingertips. It moved across the room like smoke and settled on Astlyr's brow. It felt warm, almost pleasant. She had the briefest feeling of tumbling backwards and then she was surrounded in green. The bright, unnatural green of the Fade.

This time she seemed to be in a Fade approximation of the infirmary. There were beds, of a sort, though some were twisted and distorted. Her friends were missing from the room, and on the hearth a fire blazed an unhealthy emerald color. It alternated between burning low and bursting past the bricks to lap at the hearth. A pitcher of greenish water floated past Astlyr's head and she batted it away. She looked down at herself. She was wearing the same, unusual garb she always seemed to be wearing in her dreams these days. Her broken arm felt whole and strong as ever. Her leg no longer throbbed with its dull ache. She flexed her limbs and smiled.

Across from her, already up and moving around, was Cole. She blinked. The boy wore a white, loose shirt and simple tan breeches. His feet were bare. His hat was gone. He head was tilted back, as though he were enjoying the feeling of sunlight on his skin, and he looked healthy. More so than she had ever seen him. His usual deathly pallor was gone from his face, and the dark circles had vanished from under his eyes as though they had never been. There was a rosy quality to his cheeks, and a vitality to his whole being. His hair was swept back from his eyes and glowed a startling gold. He turned to face her and smiled. The first full, real smile she had seen from him. It could light up your soul.

"Cole," she said, her voice taking on a strange echo in the Fade. "You look fantastic! How do you feel?"

"It is interesting to be back here," he said, looking at his hands. "I have not been here like this in a long time. When we went last time I had my body with me. Now, in this moment, I am only spirit."

"Well, you look great," she gave him a big smile, which he returned. Then a thought struck her with a pang of sadness, "are you meant to be here, Cole? Meant to be in the Fade?"

"I am a spirit," he shrugged, "I am not _meant_ to be anywhere. I am different here. I am still Compassion, but here I feel less rooted. Like I could go in a million directions at once."

"Is that what you want to do?"

He turned to face her, youthful features once again startling her with their vitality, "No," he said with finality. "Here there is no Skyhold. No friends. I am a wisp. An idea. Not a person. I have little value here. I cannot help here. I merely exist here."

"Ar lasa mala revas" A new voice spoke.

Astlyr looked to see her wolf padding towards them. His bushy tail was wagging happily and his eyes were bright and merry. Was it her imagination, or did he look less skinny than before? As though some fat and muscle had found their way onto his sleek body? Cole took in the wolf, and his words, "if this is freedom, then I do not want it," the boy said, his tone as matter-of-fact as ever.

The wolf stopped before Astlyr, ears pricked forward, attentive, "greetings, my friend," he said, though he did not move his canine lips.

"You can speak now," Astlyr pointed out, "and don't think I haven't noticed whose voice you're using, Fen'Harel."

"Ah, yes," the wolf dipped his head. "Perhaps this would help," he transformed then, taking on a form she knew well, and one that made her hackles rise.

"Stop that," she snapped.

"I am sorry," Fen'Harel said. He had taken on the appearance of Solas, complete with disarming eyes and submissive posture. He even held Solas' staff the way the elven mage had always done. More as a walking stick than for use with casting magic. "Daveth's form then?" he transformed once more, now taking on the shape of Myfanwy's brother. He stood straighter, though he still leaned casually on a staff.

"How many forms do you have?" Astlyr raised an eyebrow.

"Many," Fen'Harel said, sounding sad. "But only one voice. I am sorry if hearing it is painful for you."

"It's confusing for me," Astlyr explained.

Cole strode over to stand beside Astlyr, watching quietly. She leaned down to her spirit friend, "does he seem like a demon to you?" she asked in a whisper.

Cole shook his head, his shimmering golden hair falling into his eyes at last. "I have encountered many demons and he does not feel like any of them. He also does not feel like a spirit."

"Because I am not," Fen'Harel folded his arms. "A spirit embodies one quality. One emotion. I am far more. I am a god."

Astlyr snorted, then tried to regain her composure hurriedly. "I'm sorry. As I said, I've met people claiming to be gods before. They all turned out to be wrong."

Fen'Harel did not seem offended. This was admittedly different from the other "gods" she had encountered, who seemed puffed up with self glorification and egos the size of the Frostback Mountains. "I am not a spirit, neither am I a demon. What does that leave?" the Dread Wolf asked with a tilt of his head that was decidedly animal-like.

"_I_ am not a spirit. _I_ am not a demon. What does that leave?" Astlyr stared down the elf.

"That is true," Fen'Harel looked down, seeming taken with a sudden melancholy. He transformed again, this time into someone Astlyr had never seen. Tall, though still clearly elvish. He was lean, sharp featured, with high cheekbones and an angular jaw. He wore garb that reminded Astlyr of what the strange elves had worn in the Temple of Mythal. He had fiery red hair which fell in messy curls, tighter than Daveth's, to his shoulders. He had a trim beard and arched brows. There were thin wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and on his high forehead, which looked to Astlyr as though they had been caused by laughter rather than worry. "This-" he held out his hands before him, as though seeing them anew, "was my first form. I will admit, my memories of those days are hazy and only grow more distant with each new body I take, but I can recall The People. I can recall the days of sun and plenty."

"The People?" Astlyr asked, moving about the Fade room a bit, prodding at one of the beds. It dodged out of her way. She almost laughed.

"Yes," Fen'Harel's expression became hard. "The People prospered. Or at least most of them did. Some were subjugated," his forehead creased as though he was struggling to remember something. He reached up to touch his temple with a slender, long fingered hand. He staggered, catching himself on a twisted table. "No...that's not right. Is it? I can't remember what is her and what is me. She took so much."

"What's going on?" Astlyr questioned, staying Cole with an arm as the spirit moved as if to help the 'god'.

"My memories have been damaged," he looked up at her with eyes that were still that same, penetrating blue. "I can remember some things with certainty and then they twist and fade. Ach!" he made a frustrated sound. "I was better before. I was better when I was him."

"Him who?"

"The one you called Solas."

"You claim you were Solas," she was still very dubious. "Who was he before you came along?" Astlyr tested one of the beds for flightiness before she sat down, crossing her legs and settling in for a long talk.

"Just as Daveth had a full life before me, so had the one called Solas," Fen'Harel walked over and sat on the bed facing her with deliberate motions. "I can recall him most clearly. I had no body then. I had just...I had recently woken from a slumber. Why was I asleep?" he shook his head, red hair falling over his face as he rested it in his hands. "Was I injured? I can't remember," he admitted. "When I wakened I needed a new host, but the host must be willing. I believe I was inside a rat for a while. Very obliging, rats, but short lived. Then I found Solas. A man with no people. No family. His clan had shunned him at a young age because he was different. He had greater control and understanding of the Fade than any of the mages they had seen. Of course, he grew solitary and proud, and believed himself capable of anything when it came to the Fade and spirits. He thought himself superior and he got himself into trouble because of it. He would have died in the Fade, but I found him. I explained who I was, and what I was offering. He gave his body to me."

"Just like that?" Astlyr questioned.

"Very bad things can happen in the Fade," Cole said, quietly. He was still standing beside her, watchful.

"I caught him in a moment of desperation, I will admit," Fen'Harel said, lifting his head from the cage of his long fingers and meeting Astlyr's gaze again.

"So you, the wolf god of the elves, woke up from some kind of slumber and found yourself a body, which was Solas?" Astlyr clarified, eyebrow raised.

"Yes."

"If I believe your story, and I'm not claiming I do," Astlyr pondered, "does that mean all this time I was friends with a god?"

"And still are, I hope," he said. His expression so open and genuine that she believed this at least. "Even gods need friends."

Astlyr folded her arms, still exceedingly dubious. "Well, Fen'Harel, how is it you are you here, and in the body of Myfanwy's brother, when I saw Solas about a week ago, very much alive?"

"Because of Mythal," Fen'Harel said, his voice pained. "I will tell you of her in a moment. I wish to explain about Solas."

"Alright," Astlyr sighed. She was growing more and more certain that the man before her was not a demon, but she still had no idea what he truly was. She was uncertain about his claims to godhood, but she kept that to herself.

"After I woke and found my way to Solas, I traveled the world for some time. Seeking...seeking others of my kind, and seeking the foci."

"Foci?"

"Each elvhen god has an item of power. A foci," Fen'Harel tented his fingers, resting his arms on his knees. "I was searching for them, and was lucky enough to find one. But I could not use it. I was too weakened after my slumber. And then...then I was foolish. I met a being I thought I could control. I though his will weak, and his mind even weaker. He could use the foci where I could not, and he would do as I bid him."

"Coryphius," said Cole. Astlyr glanced sideways at her spirit friend. He was listening intently, but there was an expression on his face that had not been there moments before. Something searching as he watched the god speak. His eyes flicked down to meet Astlyr's and he gave her a nod to show that he was alright to continue, though she could not help but wonder what had put such a piercing look into his eyes.

"Yes," Fen'Harel sighed, his thin lips tightened into a hard, pale line. "But, as you may have guessed, he would not obey me. Instead he had his own plans for the orb. He intended to use it to open the Fade and enter in the flesh. To reach the black city and take power," the wolf god rolled his eyes. "This was nonsense, but I could not make him believe me."

"What about this?" Astlyr raised her left hand. The mark on it was clear, even more-so in the Fade.

Fen'Harel's eyes grew wide, hungry. Then he shook his head, looking away. "He wished to use the anchor to ensure his safety in the Fade. He wanted to use it to stabilize the tear, and to mollify the spirits he might encounter."

"It can calm spirits?" Astlyr looked down at her hand.

"If used correctly, yes," Fen'Harel nodded. "Of course, he had no idea how to use it, just as you have," he gave her a pained smile.

"I'm learning," Astlyr grinned back, with more than a little sassiness. "but what is the anchor? Can you tell me? No one seem certain, though Sol—Mythal," she corrected herself, "seemed to know more about it than I do. Granted, that is not difficult."

"Coryphius was greedy," Fen'Harel explained. "He wanted the anchor to use with his new toy, the orb. He tried to gain it for himself, but the anchor cannot be taken. It can only be given, and she gave it to you."

"She?" Astlyr tilted her head, confused. "I thought the orb gave me the anchor. My memories of that day are still so hazy and incomplete. I remember picking up the orb and feeling pain in my hand. I thought-"

"No," Fen'Harel interrupted her. "The orb was merely reacting to you as an unworthy handler.

"Oh, wonderful," she snarked. "Even inanimate objects think me unworthy."

A quick smile flashed on Fen'Harel's lips as he pressed on. "No. You were made worthy when the woman called the Divine Justinia bestowed the anchor unto you."

"She did what?"

"Very few knew of the Divine's marked palm. She kept it well concealed. Fewer still know how she came by the anchor in the first place, and it is not my tale to tell. When you came to her aid and she knew she would perish, she gave the mark to you, freely. Coryphius meant to rip it from her with a blood ritual, but that would not have succeeded. In fact, the anchor might have been destroyed, had you not intervened." He shook his head wearily, raking a hand through his hair. "I was an idiot to give Coryphius the orb, and I paid he price. It was ruined forever."

"And it was your foci?" Astlyr asked, brows coming together.

"The orb of destruction?" he laughed, a bark of a sound which made Astlyr jump. "No. It belonged to another."

"Who's was it then? I gather it is not Mythal's or you could have given it to her as soon as you got a hold of it."

"That is not important now," he sighed, his shoulders slumping. "The orb was destroyed and I knew I must repair what I had done. So I ensured that I became part of the Inquisition. I did not imagine I would become true friends with the woman who bore the anchor. That was a pleasant surprise," he looked up at her with that same, genuine expression as before. "Once we had repaired the damage that I had wrought with my folly I knew I must face my goddess. Mythal called to me, so I went. She took my body, the powers I had gained and mastered within it, much of my energy, and she left me. I suspect she thought I would remain, a shadow of what I was, unable to do anything."

"Instead you found a dead bird?" Astlyr raised an eyebrow.

"Instead I brought a dead bird."

"What?"

There was a cunning expression on his face now. More wolfish than before, she thought. His eyes glittered. "I knew I must be punished and I suspected what she would do to me. I never go into any situation without a plan if I can help it. I was ready," he let his shoulders slump again. "I was ready for death too. But gods cannot die. I placed a small part of myself into the bird." he looked at his hands in his lap. "When she took my body her power was so consuming. Like fire eating me away leaving only ash. I almost forgot myself entirely. The pain was...almost more than I could endure.."

"You remember the pain, even though you placed part of yourself in the bird?" Astlyr questioned.

"Unfortunately, yes," he said, his expression baleful. "There was not much left of me, and even fewer memories, but one did come to me through the fog of agony. A woman who stepped out of the Fade. A green mark upon her hand."

"You knew Astlyr would help you," said Cole, nodding as though this was an obvious certainty. His searching expression momentarily vanished, replaced with an openness Astlyr had never seen before.

"I hoped," Fen'Harel admitted, looking up with his eyes through thick lashes, reminding Astlyr again of her old hound Dash, when he wanted a treat. She had to bite back a chuckle of mirth at the thought.

"So you found me and we did exactly what you wanted. But I saw Solas...was that?" Astlyr was still confused.

"Mythal. Yes. That is likely." Fen'Harel nodded.

"Maker's sainted trousers," he mumbled, "I meet entirely too many old gods for my liking. She seemed a prickly person when I first met her. And she stole your body as punishment for your failure with the orb? I suppose that explains why she needed me..."

"Needed you?" Fen'Harel's head shot up, his expression sharp.

Astlyr gave him a brief account of her time with the man she had thought was Solas. Fen'Harel sat forward. His muscles tensed. "So..." he said quietly, almost to himself. "She found another way.

But in the end, you defeated the creature you faced?" He asked, brows raised. His hands were gripped in his lap and even in the Fade they had grown white with being clasped so tightly.

"It seemed like I did," Astlyr shrugged, "I passed out, but the last I saw of him he was being slammed against a wall pretty hard. None of us died after I blacked out, so I assumed we won."

"But you didn't see his body?" Fen'Harel pressed.

"No. I didn't wake again until a few days ago in Skyhold."

The elf seemed to consider this for a long moment. His expression was unreadable, though she suspected she could ask Cole for details. The spirit boy had been standing quietly, hands clasped behind his back as he listened. He seemed at ease again.

"You used your anchor to free him," Fen'Harel rubbed his beard having finally stopping wringing his hands bloodless. "Interesting. I did not suspect that this could happen. I suppose I should have. Was there a time when I knew all the anchor's uses? Perhaps. It is not elvish." he seemed to be speaking to himself now.

"So the anchor is a power source?" Astlyr questioned.

"Not precisely," Fen'Harel was looking tired. "It is far more complicated than that. I suspect that what the anchor can do may depend on its wielder. You are powerful, so perhaps, for you, it brings power."

"Like being a mage?" she asked, though she knew the answer.

"No," Fen'Harel gave her a wan smile.

"I thought not," she held up her hand to squint at the mark, "I can't seem to make it work when I want it to either. Perhaps with practice...if I can figure out how to practice something that is like magic, but not magic."

Cole touched her shoulder lightly. She was surprised that his hand felt warm rather than icy. "Dorian is getting very worried," he whispered to her.

"Dangerous worried?" she asked.

"Yes," Cole nodded.

"Alright. It seems it is time we wake up before my mage kills us both," she said. She looked back at the man sitting across from her. "I'm still not certain what to think of you, or what to believe. I'm ready to believe you're not a demon. I have no idea if you mean us harm or not. I have no proof other than your word and some oddly specific knowledge you have that you were ever Solas."

"Is there anything I can do to reassure you before we go?" Fen'Harel asked.

Astlyr pondered for a moment, then a smile quirked her lips, "how do you feel about tea?" she asked.

He grinned at her, his eyes sparking. "I hate it."

*******Whoa. Snap! What will happen next?! Oh yes, this story is FAAAARRRR from over. The irons are only approaching the fire at this point!

Hopefully the tweaks I made to the lore added, rather than detracted from the story, and your experience. I agonized over them all, and believe that they could have indeed been part of the games (though probably weren't lol) You never know!

Random tid-bit: Astlyr's first name is Norse and it actually means "Divine Strength" and Iron Bull told her at one point in game that "Adaar: meant weapon. Thus: strong weapon. ;) Yup.

10 points to whoever can guess who original Fen'Harel's appearance is based on!*****


	10. Chapter 10

**Part 10  
>Consequences<strong>

Cole had "woken" first to tell Dorian to take the sleep spell off of Astlyr. She woke with a slow blink, sitting up. Even with this warning, one of the younger mage guards squeaked in alarm and activated one of her wards. As it was intended to trap demons, it only made Astlyr feel as though her limbs had fallen asleep for a few moments. "Naomi!" Dorian scolded loudly, "Keep control of yourself, young lady!"

The mage blushed with embarrassment and banished her other spells with a wave of her staff, her peers chuckling goodnaturedly at her.

"Well?" Varric was the first to address Astlyr.

She glanced at Cole who was still sitting on the foot of her bed. He no longer looked vital and alive. His skin was back to its sickly pallor and his eyes were dull and sunken. When she met his gaze, however, he gave her a reassuring nod. She had no choice but to believe that being in the human world was what he wanted.

Then she turned to look at the elvish man. Even though she knew what he would look like in this world, it still seemed strange that she was no longer seeing the tall, red haired figure from the Fade. His eyes were the same, she noted, uncertain if that made her feel better or not. She turned to her companions. "Gather the inner circle" she addressed Cullen. He gave her a scrutinizing glance before nodding curtly and marching out of the room. "The guards and healers are dismissed for the time being. After our meeting you will be briefed as necessary concerning out elvish guests."

The guards looked uneasily at one another, but slowly began to leave the room. One of them stopped near Astlyr's bed, seeming to gather his courage he leaned down to whisper, "guests, Ma'am? Not prisoners?"

"Yes," she said, in just as hushed a tone.

The man nodded, then walked on, following the rest of the guards. Shortly afterward Vivienne, Blackwall, Sera, and Josephine were led into the infirmary by Cullen, and the healers retreated to an anti-room and were instructed to have dinner and perhaps a loud game of wicked grace to pass the time. Then Astlyr's company gathered together as best they could with so many of them wounded.

"Alright," Cullen folded his arms, still looking grim and suspicious, "so what do we call this thing?" he gestured towards the elvish man, who was sitting on a wooden chair near Astlyr, looking less intimidated than might have been expected with so many untrusting stares aimed at him.

"You may call me Fen, if you like," the man said, the twitch of a smile playing on his lips.

Astlyr had to contain a chuckle at Cullen's glare. It could have frozen a pond. Then she began her recounting of what she had seen while she dreamed, and what she thought to have concluded. "I'm almost certain he isn't a demon. He asserts that he is not a spirit either. I suppose we may all form our own conclusions as to his godhood," she shot a glance towards Myfanwy, who was sitting beside Fen'Harel looking just a little bit pleased with herself. "Now you've heard my conclusions. Does anyone have any questions for myself or Fen'Harel over here? Anything they would like to voice."

There was a long, uneasy silence. A few unreadable looks were passed between one another. Then Sera stood up. She calmly drew a knife from the back of her belt, and launched herself at Fen'Harel. Myfanwy intercepted before anyone else could. The two women grappled and it was Josie who reached them next and pried them apart. By this time Sera was shouting, "NO! Have you all lost your minds!? It's a DEMON and it needs killing! Why can't you see that?" she turned, slashing at Josie, who narrowly got her arm out of the way.

Cullen grasped Sera's arms then, and with a jerk he pulled them tight behind her back. The knife clattered to the floor. He spun her top face him, intending to try to calm her down and she wriggled an arm free, clumsily punching him in the face. This staggered the man enough to let her go. She scooped up her knife and backed away as Dorian missed her with an ice spell intended to hold her feet in place.

Astlyr moved as quickly as her injured limbs would allow, but Sera dodged her as well, "Look! You're all a bunch of idiots for sitting around here chatting with a demon! You-" she pointed her knife at Astlyr, "are probably already possessed, and I'll be buggered senseless if I am going to hang around here and join you! I thought your inquisition fought shite like this, not welcomed it with a hug and a cup!" she was backing towards the door, knife slashing at anyone who drew near her. Then she turned and darted out of the room.

"Do we send guards?" Astlyr wondered aloud. "Capture her?"

"I wouldn't bother," Cullen's voice was weary. Astlyr turned to see Cole standing before the knight, resting a cool hand against a welt that was forming on the man's cheekbone.

"She could spread the word that Skyhold is harboring demons," Cassandra pointed out.

"And who exactly would believe her?" Cullen stood straight, Cole having done what he could. The warrior put a hand to his cheek and prodded his teeth with his tongue to check them. "People in Skyhold can't understand what she's talking about half the time."

"Still, it would be better to-" Cas pressed.

"To what?" Varric interrupted, "to lock her up? Do we put one of our own in the dungeon? Need I remind everyone that she helped save the world?"

"I must say," Vivienne spoke next. She had been watching the scene play out with a thoughtful and passive expression on her face. "While I do not agree with the method our young elf used to get her point across, I do agree with her, for the most part."

"Viv?" Astlyr turned to her elegant mage friend with a feeling of dismay.

"Don't worry my dear, I am not going to attack anyone," she smiled. "I, at least, do not think that you have been possessed. I do, however, firmly believe that your experience with demons is far to o limited in this case. I must know, darling. What are your plans for our...guest?"

Astlyr looked back to Fen'Harel, whose posture hand changed. He no longer sat up in the chair, interested and trusting. Instead his shoulders were rounded, his eyes cast down. He looked almost ashamed, Astlyr thought as she watched him. She turned back to Vivienne, feeling a lump forming in her chest as the mage's dark, appraising eyes rested on her. "I...I don't know."

"Well, you had better know soon," Vivienne said coolly, "or I shall be leaving Skyhold as well. Granted, I will be far less violent about it, and you will have my word that I will not gab about what is happening here to every passing farmhand I encounter."

"He must be kept under guard," Cassandra spoke up, her tone level and military. "Perhaps not I the dungeon, but certainly watched at all times by at least one mage and one templar."

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. "We don't have many templars to spare."

"Is that guard enough?" Blackwall sat forward. The man had situated himself at the outskirts of the group, watchful.

"I assure you that it will be," Fen'Harel said, looking at his hands, which were clasped loosely in his lap.

"I will also be watching over my lord," Myfanwy pointed out. While everyone else's mood was clearly tense and dire, the elvish woman seemed happier than Astlyr had yet seen her. "Now that he has awakened my role is as important as ever. Ensuring that he should want for nothing."

"I think I need to get myself a disciple," Varric snarked, grinning lopsidedly.

"Are we sure we trust her?" Blackwall questioned, jabbing a thumb towards Myfanwy.

"She has given us no reason to distrust her," Astlyr said. Her mind felt overcrowded with possibilities. With thoughts, ideas and plans, none of them helpful. Truth be told she wanted to flee the entire situation. She wasn't cut out for this. She was just a lone qunari from the wilds who has stumbled into a temple on the exact wrong day. She felt her shoulders hunch when she should be standing tall. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to square up. To look the part of the intimidating leader.

"One day your horns with scratch the sky."

She was startled when Cole spoke. She turned to face him, confused, as did everyone else. "Your father told you that," the spirit boy gave Astlyr a reassuring nod. "When you were little and you had failed at something you were trying...your shield training. Your arm wasn't strong enough to keep your shield up yet...he told you that one day you would stand so tall and proud that your horns would scratch the sky."

"I think I like your father," Iron Bull chuckled.

Astlyr's brows came together as she searched for the memory. She must have been very young, but Cole was still able to find it, somewhere in her mind, as he seemed to able to do when he wanted to help. She recalled her father. A mountain of a man, with horns that curled, a bit like a ram's. It was from him she had inherited the brown tint to her skin, rather than the plain qunari grey. He had been a shield-man himself, and had trained his only child well, and with great patience. Thinking of him now she felt her spine straighten and her determination come back to her in a warm rush. "Alright," she said, and this time she did sound like the commander she intended to be. "'Fen', as he would like to be called, will be staying with us, at least for a time. He will be kept under strict watch, and not allowed to wander Skyhold. At least one mage and one templar must be in attendance at all times. I also give permission for the elf Myfanwy to accompany him if she so chooses."

"What do we tell the people of Skyhold?" Josephine asked, her pen already poised to write down the answer.

"Tell them that we believe we have another friendly spirit in our midst, but we are being cautious, just to be certain." She turned to Myfanwy, "I will allow you to be with 'your lord' but you will keep this god business to yourself. All of us will," she looked up to meet everyone's eyes. She was pleased to receive nods of ascent, and even approval from some.

"Should we not tell my people that one of their gods has awakened?" Myfanwy asked, her eyes.

"If we do not, we may risk treading on the religious rights of the elves," Josie pointed out, dabbing ink from her quill on a blotter.

"I would prefer The People not know me. At least for the moment," Fen'Harel spoke quietly.

Myfanwy looked at him, confusion and sadness mingling on her face, "but my lord-"

"One day I may reveal myself to The People," he reassured her in a gentle tone, "but now is not the moment, little one."

Myfanwy sat back, clearly unhappy, but pacified

"What about this Mythal issue?" Cassandra asked. "If we believe Fen's story, and another god is roaming around out there summoning gigantic monsters, how should we react?"

"I will speak with the spymaster," Josephine said, "and I will be discrete. Our scouts will keep their eyes open for any signs of an elf that appears to be Solas. When you were in the Exalted Plains, Astlyr, you made friends with the nearby Dalish tribe," the diplomat pointed out. "I can attempt to locate them as well, and see if they, as Dalish, have heard any news, or thoughts on the subject of their gods."

"Alright, that sounds good," Astlyr nodded.

Varric addressed Fen'Harel, "So, we've met at least two gods, but what about the other two people? The elf who came with Solas—sorry—Mythal," he corrected himself, "or the one that turned into a giant monster?"

Myfanwy took out her sketch paper and rifled through, pulling out the picture that the group had agreed looked the closest to the man they had all seen, shortly before battling for their lives. She showed it to Fen'Harel. He took in the image for a moment. "I cannot be certain," he said.

"Yes you can," Cole's voice had an edge that Astlyr didn't often hear. "You know who it was."

Fen'Harel lowered his gaze again. "I did not want to alarm you. I believe the one you summoned is Elgar'nan."

Myfanwy stood up, her sketches falling from her lap. She backed away from him, her expression tense, "the All Father?" she said, her voice a little too high.

"The Orb of Destruction was his foci, so I believe it was he you summoned. And the picture you have drawn does resemble his most recent form...if I can recall it correctly. It has been a very long time, and I have slept, and woken, and almost ended the world, since then."

"Who or what is this All Father?" Vivienne demanded, her eyes flashing dangerously. Astlyr felt a prickle of the magic building in the room like a static charge.

"Each god in the pantheon has a specific role. A title by which they were known. These titles are not always accurate. I often find myself referred to as the trickster god, which might apply in my more puckish moods, but there is far more to me than that," he glanced at all the waiting faces and it was clear he was not going to get away with being vague. He sighed. "Mythal is known as the goddess of Justice and her husband, Elgar'nan as the god of Vengeance."

"Maker's balls," Varric exhaled, "and what might he have to seek vengeance for? Oh, perhaps, the systematic slaughter and enslavement of his people?"

"I do not know if that is what he intends," Fen'Harel said, dipping his head in a gesture that reminded Astlyr of his wolf form. "Mythal and I had intended to go about waking him together. I felt that I could act as counselor and guide, as I had in days gone by. I did not imagine she would even be able to free him after I was..." he trailed off, an expression of pain on his face.

"Another way has been found, clearly," Vivienne gestured towards Astlyr. "Can you give us any idea what this 'All Father' might be planning to do, if it is indeed he who we have freed?"

Fen'Harel shook his head, looking up through dark eyelashes at the gathering, "I suspect they may attempt to continue to seek and free the rest of the elven pantheon."

"You mean those other gods that we images of in the Temple of Mythal?" Astlyr questioned.

"Them, and others," Fen'Harel answered, looking tense. It seemed clear that he was expecting to be attacked at any moment. "However, this will be no easy task for them. Mythal is weakened, even with my body, and I suspect you left her mate in a similar state when you defeated him in the Emerald Graves. They will require the foci of each god to awaken them. I know that Mythal has her own, and mine. I do not know if she has possession of others. She did not before she took my body."

"She has your foci?" Astlyr tilted her head, trying to see the Elf's lowered face behind the tumble of dark curls which fell over it.

"My foci was with my body, and when she took my body she took my foci," he explained. "This is why I was so slow to awaken myself. I would have gathered enough energy eventually, but at great cost to this body," he gestured to himself. Finally he looked up to meet Astlyr's eyes. "Thank you, my friend, for the gift of your energy to help me."

"Er, you're welcome," Astlyr felt awkward, "though I wouldn't say it was an intentional gift. I suppose, in the end, I was happy to give it."

"Could you have taken all her enegry that way? Killed her?" Dorian spoke up.

"I do not know," Fen'Harel admitted, "I have never used the anchor in that way before. I know very little about it."

"No one seems to know," Astlyr glanced down at her hand.

"Back to the issue of these awakening 'gods'" Vivienne helmed the conversation again, "What we need to know is how likely they are to attack people, or cause trouble for us mere mortals." Her voice was icy with sarcasm, showing clearly what she thought the their claim to godhood.

"I do not know," Fen'Harel said, and he put his face in his hands. Myfanwy placed a gentle hand on his rounded shoulders.

"Alright," Varric's tone was kind, "I believe him. Let's stop asking him the same question over and over."

"We need answers," Josie pointed out, though her words were not laden with the same coldness as Vivienne's.

"He wants to help us," said Cole, pale eyes fixed on the slumped elf. "He is afraid..." he began to speak rapidly, as he did when reading someone's pain, "she wants me with her. Needs my help to walk on the safe path. But he... he pulls her, drags her under cold water and she doesn't see. They rule The People, but never walk their roads. I met a child and she petted my fur and laughed. My friend has forgotten. _He_ never understood. He shook the earth and made The People love him with fear."

"Well, that was helpful," muttered Iron Bull sarcastically.

"I think the best we can do is be extremely vigilant," Astlyr spoke, her tone level and firm. "We will increase our spies and scouts. Return to the level of watchfulness that we had when Coryphius was around."

"Should we send word to Lelianna- I'm sorry, I mean the Divine Victoria?" asked Josephine, who seemed to already be drafting a letter.

"She'll find out either way," Astlyr chuckled. Not much happened in all of Thedas that the red haired woman did not know about. "It would be better if she could hear it from us. Do impress upon her our desire to use caution and not stir people into a panic. We do not know what, if anything, will come of this."

"Indeed," Josephine agreed, nodding as she wrote, her pen feather twitching madly.

"We should also be more vigilant about whom we let into Skyhold," Cullen remarked. "Thus far our doors have been open to any who needed aid, but now it seems we could be letting in gods. Or _whatever_ these people are."

"At least one of us," Astlyr gestured between Josephine, Cullen and herself, "should always be informed when newcomers arrive here and be present to greet them, and ensure they seem safe. Once Cassandra is back on her feet she can help with that too," she gave her warrior friend a nod.

"Our plan is formed then, such as it is," Dorian said, studying the group with an apprizing look.

"I will speak to the mages and what templars we have," Cullen said, moving towards the door.

"Alright, but wait a moment, Cullen," Astlyr raised her hand to stay his progress, then got clumsily to her feet. Her thigh had stiffened in the time they had been speaking. She gently flexed it to work out of the knots. "The rest of you are free to go about whatever business suits you for the moment," she said to her fellows.

"A nap suits me," Dorian announced with a good-natured smile.

"I believe I shall go back to helping your workers," Blackwall said, rising and stretching his back. "You've got snow falling through unfinished roofs all over the fortress, and people going cold. Not to mention your mage tower was hardly finished when the snow hit. There are a lot of repairs to be done before another winter storm finds its way to us."

"You are right. Thank you, Blackwall," Astlyr smiled and took his hand for a reassuring moment. Though he had once lied to her about his past, and she had thought her trust for him had fled, she found it difficult to look down into his steady gaze and not feel reassured. One lie, however large, did not counteract all his true actions in her service. She was a believer in second chances. She had certainly been given a few.

"I shall retire to the mage tower as well," Vivienne said, striding elegantly towards the door. "You may wish to pop your head in every now and then, my dear. Without the structure of a proper circle your mages are often chaotic and confused. I only hope that I can be a steadying influence on them."

"Thank you, Viv," Astlyr gave her a nod of gratitude.

Cole called the healers back into the infirmary and things began to move as always. Astlyr told Audra and her people that the man calling himself Fen, was likely a friendly spirit, and they were to treat him with courtesy and caution. They all nodded solemnly. Fen'Harel, who seemed wearied by the day of being interrogated, went willingly back to his bed to wait until secure quarters could be arranged for him. A few guards were called back to watch over him.

This finished, Astlyr turned to Cullen, who had been waiting patiently by the door, hand resting on the pommel of his greatsword. He gave her a thin smile as she limped up to him and gestured that they should move out of the infirmary.

The two walked quietly down the hallway. Astlyr noticed at once how much cooler it was outside the room of healing, which was kept quite warm with two large fireplaces, though often only one was lit. For a long moment only the sound of their footsteps echoed on the stones. Cullen's even and measured, as Astlyr's clopped unevenly with her limp. Finally Cullen spoke, his voice barely above a muttering as he gestured to the bare stone walls. "We need to get some tapestries down here. They keep in the warm. Not to mention are much more interesting to look at than grey stone."

"Cullen," Astlyr stopped walking, watching as he moved past her and his back stiffened as she spoke his name. He turned to face her, his brows knit together, though he said nothing. "I know you have much more experience with demons than I do. I'm sorry if I belittled that knowledge, but you cannot continue to second guess me in front of my men."

"Someone should," his lip curled slightly. "You said yourself that you wanted me to check you if you are about to do something stupid. Then I try and you do it anyway."

Astlyr fell silent. He was right. Hadn't she requested he do that very thing for her? And he had even attempted to be discrete. Not shouting it for the whole room to hear, but speaking only to her. "I..I'm sorry," she mumbled, feeling small, which was difficult for someone who took up most of the hallway. "I saddled you with an impossible task. Of keeping an eye on me, when I have done, and will likely continue to do, whatever fool thing comes into my head."

"It wasn't a fool thing," his voice had softened. There was a gentle huskiness to it that she found she liked. "You did what had to be done to find out what you could. But it was a great risk and I don't like endangering our inquisitor."

"You were right to try to stop me," she said, letting her shoulder's droop.

"It's bad enough that you insist on going out on every mission and almost getting yourself killed," she expected his voice to be scolding, but instead there was a hint of mirth. She looked up to see a smirk playing on his scarred lips. "Astlyr, you are a woman of action. Whatever other reasons people have for following you; your status, your potential holiness, that mark on your hand, I follow you because of your willingness to face things yourself. My teachers would have told me that it is a poor leader who puts themselves in constant danger with their men, yet it is the only quality I will follow without question."

"Blackwall once told me 'you are who you choose to follow,'" Astlyr mused, "so it would seem you are a foolish risk taker who should be dead several times over."

"That is remarkably accurate," Cullen was still grinning, his gold-flecked eyes sparkling in the torchlight of the hallway.

"So, are we alright?" Astlyr asked. "I cannot be at odds with the people I need the most. That much I do know about good leadership."

"We are alright," Cullen dipped his head, a slight seriousness returning to his voice. "You should know, I will not stop attempting to be your voice of reason, even if you do ignore me."

Astlyr smiled, feeling her heart lift, "I would never want you to stop. I promise that I shall try to listen to you in the future. At least for a few moments before I ignore your advice completely," she grinned.

"I feel so reassured," he chuckled. "Shall I go see to those guard rotations now, my lady?"

"Please don't call me that," Astlyr snorted at his formality. "And yes, please do. Oh," she stopped him as he began to turn. "I thought you should know that I intend to return to my duties after today...and as such I will also be returning to my quarters," she felt a little guilty. "You are still free to come when you need a place to hide out, but I will likely be there."

He shrugged, though she detected a slight blush blooming on his cheeks as he realized she knew that he had been using her room to sleep in. "No, no. Of course you must," he smiled briefly with a flash of white teeth. "Thank you for the use of it."

"You're welcome."

Cullen dipped his head to her, then finally turned and walked on down the corridor. Astlyr sighed wishing she knew better the right things to say to people. She knew Cullen would remember her refusal to heed his advice. Though he would not hold it against her, he might be uneasy about correcting her in the future, whatever he said. She turned and limped slowly back to the infirmary.


	11. Chapter 11

********Happy birthday to me! This week was my brithday and I am passing the presents on to you! This week you get TWO chapters of Old Gods! Oh yeah! *Happy dance*****

**Part 11**

**Inquisitor's Day**

Astlyr was on the roof of the privy putting on shingles. A few weeks of recovering from her injuries had made the qunari a little stir crazy, and her inability to help in the efforts to make Skyhold more liveable had driven her to take on any building task she could find.

Her men were pleasantly surprised to find her a skilled builder with some knowledge of carpentry. Her father had taught her how to keep their little cabin in repair, and she had even helped helped him construct a small byre for their goats when she was thirteen. She was careful to use her right arm more than her left, for though the breaks were healing, thanks in no small part to the skill of Vivienne and the other healer mages, it still twinged. Audra tutted any time she caught sight of Astlyr lifting or carrying with her bad arm.

Astlyr sat back, straddling the peak of the roof with a leg on either side. She tilted her head to the winter sun, exhaling a cloud of steamy breath. Though it was a cold day, she was warm from her exertions. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand, more to clear away strands of her hair than sweat. She was about ready to break for lunch. She planned to take a meal down to the infirmary and eat with Iron Bull. He was the only one still there, his injuries having been the worst. He loathed being stuck there, but the healers insisted. Dorian and Cassandra, who had also been seriously hurt, made certain to check in with Audra at least twice a day for bandage changes and examinations.

Astlyr hooked the hammer she had been using into a loop on her belt and moved to climb down the ladder. Below her the other workers were shoring up a wall of the privy which had begun fall apart due to moisture freezing between the stones. Astlyr squinted as she caught sight of two figures moving through the snowy yard not far from her. Myfanwy and Fen'Harel, both dressing in long, green winter cloaks, were out for their daily walk. Astlyr checked again and spotted the mage and templar that were guarding the 'god' for the day, standing back and chatting with one another. While Fan'Harel was usually kept locked in his rooms, he was allowed out once per day to get some supervised fresh air.

She watched him for a moment. He had not visited her dreams since he had woken. She no longer dreamed of friendly wolves in a green landscape. Last night she had been flying. The night before she had walked into an important war room briefing without any pants, and for some reason there was a talking nug that laughed at her. It was nice to have ordinary dreams again, but part of her missed her canine companion.

Astlyr climbed down from the roof, her leg still a bit stiff. She wondered if the muscle would ever fully recover. The cold weather did not please it, this was certain. She had a new scar on her thigh as well. Even the healers had been unable to completely close the wide gash. Astlyr did not mind, if only it would stop throbbing on chilly days. She set down her tools in a waiting bucket, saying her brief goodbyes to the other workers she moved to join the two elves.

"Good day," she greeted Fen'Harel with an upraised hand.

He smiled at her and she found herself envisioning Solas' face for a fleeting moment. The way Fen'Harel's smile reached his eyes was the same, even on a new face. Myfanwy nodded to Astlyr, also smiling her greeting. The elven woman was never far from her lord's side. "I see you are busy as ever," Myfanwy gestured to the roof which now sported a perfect scaling of new shingles.

"Now no one will have to worry about being snowed on while they piss," Astlyr said, planting her hands on her hips and giving her work a pleased once-over.

She heard Fen'Harel chuckle, which made her own smile broaden. "Important work," the man agreed.

"How have you been finding your stay here at Skyhold?" she asked, aware that her tone had grown overly formal. She still hadn't decided how to hold a conversation with this stranger who wasn't a stranger.

Fen'Harel dipped his head, "I am enjoying the improvements since the last time I was here. I do miss my office, however. I miss studying."

It took Astlyr a moment to understand. The round room, with its painted walls, had become temporary housing for several refugees which they had taken in. Her memory cast back to seeing her elven companion, Solas, in that room, bent over his work, a crease of concentration forming between his eyes. Then how that look would smooth with calm pleasure when she would come to visit him. She winced inwardly. It would be a lie to say she did not still miss Solas, even though she knew she would never get him back the way he was. She looked at the man before her. Dark curls spilling from beneath the green hood he wore. He was actually a bit taller than Solas. "Perhaps we could get you a few things that would allow you to continue your studies. What were you researching?"

"Skyhold," he said, a smile turning the corner of his mouth upward. "I believe I may have told you that this is an elven place. From a very long time ago, before The People were enslaved or forced to live on the run. When it was built it was believed by the elves that it allowed them to touch the sky. It put them in closer contact with us...their gods," he clarified at Astlyr's look. "I do not know much of Skyhold when I first came, save its location, but I was attempting to research more. Perhaps something could aid us in our various endeavors here, as it seems to have become our home."

Astlyr flinched at the words 'our home'. Certainly she loved Skyhold, and the more she helped rebuild it, the greater her sense of ownership grew. But there was still a part of her, and perhaps there always would be, that longed for the simpler life she had known. That ached for little cabins on a hillside, or traveling with a mercenary band. "Well, perhaps we could give you some resources. Let your guards or Myfanwy know what you need and we'll see about acquiring it for you." She said.

"Thank you," he bowed slightly. He moved with the same gentle grace that Solas always had. Astlyr might have thought this an elven trait, has she not seen Sera spectacularly trip over her own feet from time to time. The thought of Sera made Astlyr's heart twinge. She had not seen the elvish rogue since she had stormed out of the infirmary several weeks before. Her room in the tavern had been cleared out and someone else was renting it now.

"Astlyr," Fen'Harel asked in a lower tone, indicating with his eyes that he wished to step away from Myfanwy to speak to her.

"What is it?" she asked, allowing them to move out of easy hearing of the others.

"Is the mage, Morrigan, still here at Skyhold?"

"At times," Astlyr said. "She comes and goes as she pleases, but uses Skyhold as a base of operations."

Fen'Harel looked tense, his eyes flicking to look around as though he expected to be attacked at any moment. "How much does she know of me?"

"She saw you when you were sleeping, and knows what you claim to be. Like most of us, she is suspicious of your godhood, but much less so than some of our number. Possibly because she drank from the Well of Sorrows and has a better idea of whether the elven gods actually exist. No offense meant," she added.

Fen'Harel pulled off his hood, freeing messy curls and letting the sun caress his pale features. The end of his nose was pinkish with cold, but Astlyr noticed that neither he nor Myfanwy wore any boots. Their bare toes seemed completely unbothered by the snow they trod in. Astlyr shook her head in admiration. Even as a qunari, and as such able to withstand harsher temperatures, (though she was more suited to heat than cold) she always kept her feet tucked into fur lined winter boots. She caught the concerned look on her elven companion's angular features. "What's wrong?"

"Morrigan. Do you recall what Abelas told us of the well when we reached it?"

Astlyr felt her skin prickle as Fen'Harel spoke as though he had been there, with her. It was still difficult to reconcile this new man as her old friend, and possibly a god all at the same time. Instead of lingering on this she tried to cast her mind back. The keeper of the well had told them that it was an artifact of Mythal. She felt her breath catch, "that whomever drank from the well would be bound to the will of Mythal."

"Has Morrigan displayed any unusual behavior as of late?" Fen'Harel asked, his eyes bright and intense in the naked winter sunlight. They were the same color as the cloudless sky they reflected as he looked up at her.

"No more than usual," Astlyr tried to quip, but her heart wasn't in it. Instead she was searching her memory for any sign of the woman acting differently. "No. I do not believe so," she shook her head. "Why didn't I think about this earlier."

"Likely because, until very recently, you thought the elven gods either a myth, or very detached from yourselves and your lives," he lowered his head again. Submissive, as a wolf might be to a pack leader. "I only ask that she be monitored. I have no idea who much control Mythal can exert over her, if any, from this distance. I also cannot tell if Mythal would have any interest in using such control. She is aware that you have me here, but may not even suspect that I am awake."

"She didn't seem to think you a threat when she saw you before," Astlyr pointed out.

Fen'Harel flinched, his lip curling in a wince, as though he had some memory of the visit, though he had been locked in his slumber. "If I am honest, I hope she does believe me still too weak to waken. As it is I am still very limited. I am grateful that the one called Daveth was a mage, but his abilities are very different from those of Solas, and I have little opportunity to practice them. I wouldn't wish to alarm my guards," he shot a wan glance at the mage and templar, who were still engaged in a lively conversation.

"How are you doing otherwise?" Astlyr questioned. "Are you still weakened by the whole dead bird incident?"

"I am,," he admitted. "Less so now that I am able to consume food and drink, but it may be some time before I am returned to my previous strength. Even in Solas' body I was not near what I could be. What I was in days of old." He looked almost ashamed. "You can hardly brag that the inquisition has a god in its ranks when the one you have is so pathetic. Not that you would brag of it," he smirked thinly.

Astlyr chuckled. "Perhaps some day, when we figure out what it is we think of you. Then we'll decide if we want to brag or not."

"Perhaps," he smiled, meeting her gaze again with more confidence this time. There was a hint of the old Solas in him. A proud bearing that would show itself from time to time. Astlyr found she was pleased to see it, when it was there.

"I will take your request into consideration," she said, formally, straightening and attempting to look more commanding.

"Thank you," Fen'Harel nodded to her and pulled his hood back up before moving to rejoin Myfanwy. He hesitated, glancing back at her, "Inquisitor."

"Yes?"

"I miss talking with you," he said, then he turned and walked on with his small company.

Astlyr moved on towards the door to the lower keep of Skyhold, considering the elf's words. Was Morrigan a danger? Could they keep an eye on her without her notice? What might she do if she found herself under suspicion. Astlyr decided she would have to ask her advisers about this as soon as possible.

She wished Lelianna was still with them. The shrewd spy master would tell Astlyr exactly what she needed to hear, whether she liked it or not. These days Cullen seemed less willing to give his opinion, though lately there had not been much to debate. When people came to Skyhold to petition for shelter, she, Cullen, and Josephine were almost always in agreement. Thus far everyone had been allowed entry. Still, small contingents of scruffy, malnourished country folk whose homes and fields had been destroyed in the time of rifts, came almost daily.

Astlyr knew Skyhold to be massive, with many rooms, but she wondered how long they could, or should, continue to take in refugees. In her last chat with the head cook Astlyr had been pleased to learn that their winter stores looked ready to hold out. Extra had been purchased all summer in anticipation of just such winter hardships. Astlyr could have hugged the short, round woman for her forethought, but the cook had seemed uneasy just to stand in the presence of the qunari inquisitor.

Astlyr had to walk through the kitchens on her way to the infirmary, and she nodded a greeting to the staff, who all bobbed their heads and whispered to one another. A small, youthful elven man hurried forward with a laden basket, "your lunch, my lady," he said, beaming. She noticed that his teeth were quite crooked, but this seemed to make his wide grin all the more endearing. She couldn't help but smile back as she thanked him.

On she walked, musing as she munched on a roll from the basket. It was still warm and filled with herbs. Eating it reminded of her warm little cottage growing up and she felt a little less insecure about Skyhold's possible troubles, if only for a few moments.

In the Infirmary she headed straight for Iron Bull's bed. Crem was seated there already, chatting with his leader in low tones. He looked up as Astlyr approached and gave her an encouraging smile. "Well, I'll leave you two to your alone time," the warrior said, pilfering a roll from the basket before leaving.

"Some kind of discipline you teach your men," Astlyr snarked as Crem paused near the door to hold an amiable conversation with Audra.

"I can't teach that one anything," Iron Bull smiled, watching his friend fondly.

Astlyr and Iron Bull ate and chatted for some time. She noticed he was making an effort to keep the conversation light. She felt she should not burden him with her worries about Morrigan when she could tell that something was bothering him. Finally, after yet another pointless back and forth about the best way to lay shingle, she looked him square in the face, meeting his good eye steadily, "Alright, Bull. I know something is on your mind. Why don't you just tell me?"

Iron Bull hesitated. Then, with a wince, she reached up to his chest, gently pulling something free from beneath the soft, cotton shirt he wore. It was the dragon tooth on its cord necklace. It dangled from his fingers, rotating slowly. "I have been thinking, Kadan..." he seemed more uncertain than she had ever seen him. She was used to confident, in-charge Iron Bull. His tone made her palms go clammy. "You and I, we were great together when you were facing Coryphius. I was the sort of boyfriend you needed. Someone to help you relieve tension in some fun and inventive ways between bouts of killing demons."

"You are more than that to me," Astlyr said, sensing where this was going and feeling a little as though the bed was about to drop out from under her. Still, she kept herself under control, her face impassive and steady. A stoney expression which had won her several hands of wicked grace.

"You are more than that to me too," he said, so earnestly that Astlyr believed him. "But I can tell that we're not perfect together any more. I'm not the man you need now. I'm not certain who is, but you are a different woman now."

"No," her brows came together, confused. "I'm not. I'm the same as I ever was."

"You're more careful. More...wise than you were. You need someone who can match your mind, as well as your strength," Iron Bull reached back with his free hand to unclasp his necklace. He held it towards her, a deep sadness in his eyes. "Give this to someone who fits who you have become."

Astlyr didn't take the tooth. The one she wore suddenly felt cold against her breastbone. Her throat was tight and she felt a deep sadness and even anger rising up in her. "Every time," she muttered, her voice low, dark. Iron Bull tilted his head, having not heard her clearly. "Every time," she repeated, louder. "Every man I have ever been with," she shook her head, trying to clear it. "They all make excuses to end it, but they always end it." Iron Bull looked so deeply saddened that she was having trouble keeping up her anger. She looked at her hands instead. "Most of the men I have been with were human," she admitted. "I think they all just wanted to brag to their mates that they bedded a qunari. I thought...I thought that you...that we..."

Iron Bull leaned towards her, though it obviously cause him pain, and cupped her chin in a gentle, calloused hand. "Ah, Kadan. You will never be a _conquest_ in my mind! You are far far more than that. You are an astounding woman, and you deserve a worthy mate. I can never be what I know you truly want. I was raised in the qun. Relationships are different there. Some may last a lifetime, but it is rare. I think it is better to see that ours was great, but never meant to go on forever."

Astlyr considered for a long moment. It was true that her relationship with Iron Bull had been mostly a physical one. It had suited her well enough, truth be told, though admittedly his love making style could be a bit overwhelming at times. She had enjoyed it, but part of her did pull towards something else, though she didn't know exactly what. She shook her head. There was a lump in her chest like a hot stone. Even though she knew that Iron Bull was probably right about their relationship, she still hated this part. "If this is what you want," she said, her tone dull.

"I don't want this, no," Iron Bull said, his voice laden with apology, " but I know it is the right thing to do."

"Alright," she exhaled.

"And Boss," he said, resting his hand over hers on the bed, "I'm still with you until the end. If you need anything, hell, even if you just need a quick tumble, I'm here for you."

She laughed, though it was half choke, "I'll keep that in mind, Bull," she said, her voice throaty but still clear. Then she stood slowly and walked out of the infirmary without glancing back. Once in the quiet hallway she allowed herself a moment to mourn. A tight shaking of her shoulders as she held herself. No tears escaped. She seldom cried, even when she wanted to. Her sadness escaped soundlessly past parted lips and clenched jaws. Then she straightened, composed herself, and walked on. A hot anger still lurked somewhere inside her, but she was determined not to let it get the better of her.

Instead she made her way towards the main hall of Skyhold to see if Josie or Cullen had any news for her, and to tell them of her concerns over Morrigan. Without thinking she tucked Iron Bull's dragon tooth into a pocket. Perhaps she would give it to someone else one day. Someone who would never let it, or her, go.

The main hall was bustling, and she saw Josie and Cullen already standing at the head, in front of the throne. If Astlyr was honest she hated that chair of office. So overblown and spiky. It made her look like a ruthless dictator no matter how much she tried to seem friendly or wise. As a result she only sat on it when she was forced to pass judgment on a criminal. Then she didn't mind appearing to be an ass.

She made her way through the crowd to try to reach her two advisers on a dais. Peasants had come to Skyhold seeking shelter and aid. They were dressed it ratty winter attire and she grimaced when she saw that some had tied cloth around their feet as they had no boots. Skyhold and shelter and food, but Astlyer knew that clothing and fresh footwear were in short supply. A pity that none of them desperately needed swords, because Skyhold was bristling with weaponry. Keeping several skilled smiths had been important during a war, but now seemed a bit superfluous. Astlyr wondered how much a good cobbler would cost to have on staff.

Finally she made her way to the head of the crowd, greeting Cullen and Josephine with a nod. She turned, expecting to see a family of bedraggled peasants was next in line to petition for admittance.

Instead she found two well dressed men in full, maintained armor. Astlyr recognized the emblem on their tabbards as the crest of the royal family. Queen Anora and King Alistair. She had met the royal couple once, very briefly, and it had not been long enough to make an impression. She opened her mouth to speak to them, couldn't decide what she was expected to say, and decided to let the two men go first.

"Madam Inquisitor," one of the knights stepped forward, pressing his fist to his chest in salute. Astlyr and her two advisers returned the gesture. Then he raised his voice to a lofty and proud tone. "We are here as an honored envoy from their majesties. My name is Ser Roderick Miles and my companion is Ser Oswyn Sighard."

Josephine made a small noise of surprise and Astlyr turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. "I am familiar with these men," The adviser clarified, dipping her head and riffling through the papers she had with her. "They are both members of Queen Anora's personal knights! For them to be acting as messengers-"

"Not messengers," the man called Ser Oswyn corrected. "Emissaries. We have been sent here by the queen herself to speak with the Inquisitor on a matter to which the queen would very much enjoy a prompt reply. May we retire to your private office to discuss this immediately?"

Astlyr gestured for the knight to stop speaking. She could tell both these men thought themselves quite important. She could also sense politics were about to be discussed, and she was never one for lengthy talks."All of these good people are here seeking my help," she gestured to the hall, full near to bursting. "I will aid them first, then I can give your matter my full attention."

"The queen's matter," the second night said in a hushed tone, as though he wasn't fully committed to correcting this intimidating woman.

She felt an odd gratification at the expressions of the two knights as they stepped back to wait, shifting in their fancy armor, which looked heavy to stand in for any length of time. Astlyr signaled someone to bring them some chairs, then turned her attention back to the other petitioners that filled the hall. A few families came forward and she offered them shelter and food in exchange for their work in whatever capacity they could find. Everyone agreed wholeheartedly.

The third group she saw surprised her. Rather than a another family of bedraggled peasants, three mages and a weary looking templar were standing at the base of the steps which led to the throne.

Two of the mages were women, the third a young man. The templar was youthful as well, Astlyr noticed, as she took in his bedraggled armor which didn't seem to have been made for him. He had chestnut red hair that was pulled back with a leather thong, though much of it had escaped and hung over his pale face. His expression reminded Astlyr strongly of a kicked puppy. Even as he pressed a fist to his chest, bowing respectfully to her and opening his mouth to speak, the mages had bustled past him and were talking over him.

"Herald!" one of the women spoke with a refined, if a bit overblown, accent, which Astlyr suspected she was putting on to seem more important. "I did not expect to speak with you in person! We are honored indeed!"

"Yes, it is the greatest honor to meet you, Herald!" the male mage squeaked. He was so young puberty didn't seem to have found its way to his voice yet. Astlyr bit back a chuckle as he tried to look dignified.

"A great honor," the third mage put in, as though afraid of being forgotten about.

Astlyr shot a glance towards her two advisers. Josie was managing to look serious and businesslike, but Cullen had a fist to his mouth, hiding a smile with a cough. He could not conceal the way mirth wrinkled the corners of his eyes.

"Greetings, friends," Astlyr said, giving them her best magnanimous expression, which probably looked strange on the face of a qunari, but she tried not to think about it. "What brings you to Skyhold?"

The templar moved forward slightly, trying to be seen behind the mages. He opened his mouth again, but once more he was drowned out by their chatter. "We are from the Cricle in Markham," the first mage explained. She was perhaps in her forties and her long straight hair was black as a raven's wing. Her eyes were likewise black, like twin stones set in a long face with prominent cheekbones.

The second mage had brown hair, which was braided up around her head, though many of the braids were falling loose, giving her the look of a neglected child even though she was likely at least thirty. She stepped forward, speaking immediately after her dark haired companion. "When you wisely ordered the circles disbanded and the mages freed, we at Markham celebrated," she explained, wringing her hands as though delivering hard news.

"You were pleased then?" Astlyr questioned, uncertain where this was going.

"Most of us were," the youngest mage spoke. His skin was darker, like red clay. A few tufts of what might one day be a beard sprouted pathetically on his weak chin. "There were some who were not pleased with your ruling,"

"Of course that is to be expected," Josephine said, as though this was old news.

"Some of our mages rebelled...against the rebellion," the first woman explained. "They became violent. Many of our templars sided with them."

"They attacked the rest of us," the young man said, shakily.

Astlyr flinched. She had worried that this might happen at some circles. Hadn't Vivienne warned her once of this very thing? That some mages might not wish to be 'freed'? Suddenly asked to live by their own choices when previously they had been safe and protected in the towers. Astlyr's jaw tightened. By the look of these four the trouble in Markham had not ended well. "What happened?" she asked anyhow.

"The Circle was destroyed. The tower is rubble," the second mage said, hanging her head.

"Maker's breath," Cullen exhaled, eyebrows raised.

"We, and a few other survivors, set out to find a new place to stay. We traveled the farthest, determined to reach Skyhold and see what awaited here," the first mage was speaking again, her put-on accent even thicker. Like dripping honey. "We had heard rumors in our travels of a new tower being constructed here, and we grew eager to see it, and perhaps be a part of it."

"Ours in not a Circle tower," Cullen stepped forward to explain. "It is more a college than anything. Mages there can study in safety. We do have templars on hand, but they do not rule over the mages, nor instruct their days. We will no longer steal children from their families, but instead encourage families and children to come to us together and to study and grow in their magic."

"That sounds idyllic," crooned the second woman, smiling. Astlyr noticed she had a wide gap between her front teeth.

"May we..." the templar managed to speak for the first time. His voice was hoarse and weary, "May we stay?"

He swayed on his feet and Astlyr moved without thinking to support him. Her motion sending the three mages scattering like chickens as though afraid she meant to maul them. "Are you hurt?" she asked the man, taking his arm to steady him. Cullen had moved forward as well, concern on his tough features.

Josephine waved a guard over, "fetch a healer up here!"

"No. I am fine," the young templar said, taking in the qunari woman who was helping him with wide, somewhat alarmed, pale blue eyes. "Just weary from the journey."

"Did you watch over these three the entire way?" Cullen asked, his voice soft.

The templar nodded, his shoulders sagging with obvious exhaustion. "Yes sir. It was a very long journey, sir." he seemed more comfortable addressing Cullen than Astlyr.

The three mages, for their part, hardly seemed concerned at their protector's condition. "Alright," Cullen's tone was soothing, "take it easy now, son. You made it. We'll get you all some food and shelter."

"Thank you, sir," the templar mumbled between cracked lips.

One of the healers appeared shortly, taking the young man's arm over his shoulder and nodded smartly to Astlyr, "I've got him, thank you ma'am."

"As to you three," Astlyr turned to the mages, who stood to the side, waiting none too patiently and occasionally speaking in low, hurried voices to one another. "We would be pleased to have you in our college. I will even personally show you around." She watched the expressions on their faces form confusion and even fear. Sometimes it was refreshing to be so intimidating. If anyone meant trouble, they often thought twice when they got a look at the inquisitor.

"Alright," said the first woman, timidly.

"Just let me finish up with these other petitioners and I will take you to the tower myself," Astlyr said. "In the mean time have a seat over there and someone will bring you food and drink," she gestured that some more chairs be brought so the mages could wait beside the queen's knights. The mages shuffled to the side, already nattering to one another. Astlyr turned to Cullen and give him an expressive eye roll, which she returned with a grin.

The rest of the petitioners were what Astlyr had expected. Villagers and peasants looking for a place to stay, at least over winter. She took to asking them what heir skills were, in hopes of finding a cobbler. No such luck, but she did encounter two wheelwrights, a farrier, and a cooper. Several of the women had skill with sewing, so Astlyr planned to put them to work making new clothes for the people sheltering there.

Feeling pleased with herself Astlyr turned to the impatiently waiting mages. "Are you ready?" she addressed them.

"Yes," they all stood and spoke as one. Astlyr shook her head. Mages were so odd.

One of the royal knights stood hurriedly, "Madam Inquisitor! What about our crucial matter from the queen?!"

"My diplomat, Josephine Montilyet, will take your information and relay it to me," she said, knowing that she would understand whatever these people had say to far better when Josie had vetted it and weeded out all the bullshit.

"But Madam Inquisitor-"

"Please, don't call me that," Astlyr groaned, waving them away with her hand as she imagined a queen might. "I have very important business to attend. It is not every day that we welcome three new mages into our ranks." This was true. Now that the war was over, the influx of magic users had slowed considerably, though today Atstlyr fully intended to use these newcomers as an excuse to avoid politics and posturing envoys. "Ambassador Montilyet has my full confidence. You may say anything to her that you would to me. She will take it in the strictest confidence."

Josie was watching Astlyr's face with a raised eyebrow. Though she did not look at all displeased with the arrangement. Astlyr knew her friend was extremely curious what these knights had to say, and also reveled in the chance to appear more important in the Inquisition. Astlyr was happy to give that to her, and to avoid an almost certainly boring talk at the same time. She turned to Cullen and her new mage friends. "Shall we? Oh, and Josie, we need to meet and talk after wards. I have something I need to discuss with my advisers."

"Very well," Josephine nodded respectfully and gestured that the disgruntled looking knights should follow her to her office.

Astlyr heard one of the men muttering about disrespect, and how the queen would certainly hear of it. The Inquisitor grinned. As her life went on, Astlyr was finding it more and more satisfying to be contrary.

She and Cullen led the new mages out of the great hall. At the top of the stairs down to the yard Astlyr hesitated, trying to not let out a snort of laughter. The two self-important queen's knights had not come alone. Their fully armored horses were standing in the yard, being held by well dressed pages. The page's mounts also stood by. There was even a war hound, adorned with shining battle armor. The beast lifted its square head to study the qunari and her party, then rested it back on its massive paws, dismissing her as a non-threat. She smiled. The dog may have been the only creature not to deem her dangerous at first glance.

The three mages chattered like birds on a window sill as they made their way to the tower. They admired Skyhold, and Astlyr. They asked her questions about being a qunari in Fereldan. About her family, and did she follow the qun? Astlyr did her best not to be annoyed. She wished that word would get around that she was Tal-vashoth so she would stop having to explain to people that she didn't want to collar and cut out the tongues of mages.

One of the women also set up a steady stream of flirtation with Cullen, which clearly made the man extremely uncomfortable and Astlyr had to try not to laugh. When he finally managed to dislodge his admirer for a few moments he snarled to Astlyr, "you owe me!" She chuckled at him and he glared icily.

Astlyr had not spent much time inside Skyhold's newest construction, the mage tower. It stood out impressively against the pale sky of the mountains. It was certainly smaller than most Circle towers. Not many of the mages of Skyhold kept up residence in the building. Rather it was used for study. Classrooms had been set up with special protective wards for the instruction of young, inexperienced mages. The few templars in the fortress were looked upon with a general goodwill rather than scorn or mistrust. They were all there because they had supported the mages in their bid for autonomy. They moved about freely in the tower, coming to the aid of the mages as needed. It was actually a very comfortable job, Cullen had commented ruefully.

The inside of the tower still had an unfinished look to some of the stones, and it smelled a bit too much like fresh, cold air in some places, where it had not been properly insulated before the snows. The fireplaces worked overtime to keep it heated, but as magical flame was always ready to hand, they did not use overmuch firewood.

The three newcomers stared around with wide eyes. For once seemingly struck dumb. A few senior mages, including Vivienne, greeted them. Astlyr couldn't tell if her elegant friend was pleased with the new additions, or if she wished the inquisition would stop taking in every person came to the door looking like an abandoned kitten. Perhaps a combination of both.

A quick tour was conducted, showing off classrooms and studies. A library was well on its way to being filled with a collection of tomes which seemed to be growing every day. Astlyr was impressed, which she freely admitted. The mages had already made several improvements to the place since the last time she had been there.

As she walked about, hands clasped loosely behind her back, enjoying the place, even if the crackle of magic around her did set her teeth on edge at times, she felt a tug on the back of her tunic. She turned around, then looked down. She smiled to herself. As a qunari she was always looking down to see people, but some people posed an even greater issue. She resisted the urge to take a knee as she greeted the dwarven woman who had gotten her attention, "Hello, Dagna," she smiled warmly, "good to see you."

"Good to see you as well, Inquisitor," the dwarf beamed. Danga had a way of lighting up an entire room with her wide, uninhibited smile.

"Was there something that needed my attention, or did you simply wish to say hello?" Astlyr question.

"Both," Dagna shrugged, her smiling slipping a bit. Very little managed to vex the dwarven artificer, so Astlyr leaned down slightly, giving her full attention.

Cullen managed to pry his arm from the grip of the mage woman who had taken a fancy to him, claiming in hurried tones that she had to discuss something with the dwarf as well. All three newcomers had stared openly at Dagna for several moments. One of them tutted something about 'overly inclusive policies at Skyhold,' but did so quietly.

Danga seemed briefly star-struck to be in the presence, not only of Astlyr, but also her famed military adviser. She cleared her throat, giddily nervous. "I just...I was wondering when that elvish spirit idol you found was going to come my way? I've been looking forward to studying it."

"When what?" Astlyr raised an eyebrow, confused. "You mean that jade frog statue?"

"I suppose," Dagna shrugged. "I heard that it was supposed to be delivered to the artifacts room, but I hadn't had a chance to check it right away. Then it wasn't there, so I figured it was still on its way. Only it has been a few weeks and I was wondering-"

"You mean that thing has been missing for almost a month?" Astlyr spoke more loudly than she intended and several nearby mages turned to see what was going on. She lowered her voice to an urgent whisper, "that artifact was suppose to be delivered here the same day we got it." She turned to Cullen, "who was the mage in charge of bringing it here? They need to be questioned at once."

"Right," Cullen's expression had taken on the stone severity he often wore in battle. He glanced around, seeking Vivienne, who was most likely to know where any of the mages in the tower were located at any given time. Astlyr wished she could recall who exactly had taken the frog statue.

"Cullen, please gather Josephine, Guardswoman Jones, Morrigan, Cole and Cassandra in Josie's office. We have something more urgent to discuss than the queen's envoy." Astlyr growled. She turned and left the tower, annoyance rising like hot coals in her throat. What was going on around her fortress without her knowing?

"Alright, Morrigan. Where's the idol?" Astlyr demanded of the yellow eyed mage.

They had all assembled in Josephine's office, as ordered. Fortunately, by that time she had finished whatever conversations she had been having with the two queen's knights and had ushered them on their way to the tavern.

Cassandra leaned against the diplomat's desk, still sore from her wounds. She looked over the gathered group with the wisened eye of a military commander. Apprizing. Cullen paced and Guardswoman Jones looked extremely insecure. Cole stood in the corner, chin low so his hat concealed his eyes. Astlyr intended to use the spirit boy as a lie detector of sorts and he wasn't exactly thrilled by the idea, though he was willing enough. Beside Jones stood the mage who had been charged with bringing the frog idol to the tower. She looked ready to faint with nerves.

"Excuse me, but if you are going to accuse me of something, please do me the courtesy of giving me some information to go on," Morriagan folded her arms, arching an elegant eyebrow.

"Let's back up," Josie suggested. "See if we can trace what happened to this idol."

"Alright," Astlyr said, feeling as tightly coiled as a spring put under great pressure. This day had started out so well and gone down hill so precipitously, she thought bitterly as she scanned the faces of the assemblage. "We brought the idol back from that cave. We intended to use to to awaken Fen-" she checked herself before saying his full name, glancing uneasily at the mage and guardswoman. "We determined that the way the idol worked required something we did not feel comfortable sacrificing."

"It wanted to kill spirits," muttered Cole, darkly, "and turn them into energy against their will."

"Right," Astlyr went on, nodding to her young friend. "But we did want to study it, so I requested that it be sent to Danga the artificer, for her and her team to study. But now she tells me she never saw it. That it did not reach its destination. So. Where is it?"

"You believe that I have possession of it?" Morrigan asked, her voice as smooth as ever. Obviously unperturbed by the accusation.

"You are a likely candidate," Astlyr said, eying the slender mage with ill concealed suspicion. 'You knew of the item, what it could do, and how to use it. You could easily go into the mage tower and take it, or waylay the one carrying it," she turned to the young mage who had been standing with guardswoman Jones. She cowered when faced with the intimidating figure of Astlyr in such close quarters.

"I brought it to the tower, Lady Inquisitor, just as instructed. I left it in the artifact room." the mage said in a high, tense voice. Astlyr caught Cole moving out of the corner of her eye, knowing the boy was concerned for the frightened mage. He did not go to her side, but hovered nearby, as though ready to intervene if Astlyr became too intense.

Astlyr stood back a bit, suddenly aware of how tall she was and a little self conscious. She shot Cole a look and after a moment he nodded. To the best of his knowledge the mage was telling the truth. "Alright," Astlyr exhaled, "you are excused. Thank you for your help."

The mage bobbed a bow to Astlyr and then to everyone else in the room before beating a hasty retreat. Astlyr turned her attention back to the others, brows knit together. "So, Morrigan. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Only that I am innocent of the theft," the raven haired woman shrugged narrow shoulders. Her prominent collarbone made more pronounced with the motion. She was an angular woman. All sharp edges and cold lines. Astlyr wondered if some found her type beautiful. Then she shook off the thought as she stared down the confident mage, who continued, "I have had no contact with your silly little idol since that day when you foolishly refused to use it. I cannot help but notice you did find another way to awaken him," she smirked.

Astlyr nodded, still scowling. "We did. But that does not change the facts before us. So you claim that you did not take the idol. The mage tells me that she delivered it to the tower. So where did it go?"

"I would have no way of knowing," Morrigan answered, in as frosty a tone as ever. "I am hardly kept up to date on your dealings here in Skyhold, and I cannot be held responsible for your incompetence."

Everyone on the room tensed, as though expecting Astlyr to fly into a qunari rage and attack the smart mouthed mage. But Astlyr had been expecting such an answer. She cut a glance at Cole, who was watching her from under the wide brim of his hate. "Cole, can you read her?"

The boy hesitated, then shook his head. "There is too much. A thousand voices fill her mind. A sea of songs, swimming and sweeping over her thoughts. Ancient ones with ancient knowledge crowd, though she doesn't know how to speak with them. If only I could speak with them," he shook his head, as though trying to disengage from something, stepping back he raised his hands as if in warding. "I don't like her pain," he muttered. "I can't help her."

Now Astlyr did feel an anger rising, but she tamped it down as best she could. "Because of what happened at the well?"

"Yes," Cole answered. "I can feel parts of her...I want power, and I want to understand things. Want to understand everything. Grasping, reaching, straining for understanding, but muffled by the voices," Cole shook his head, a look coming over his face as though he had tasted something bitter.

"Well this is getting us no where," grumbled Cullen. "If Morrigan does not have the idol, and it is not in the tower, where is it?"

"Would you submit to a search of your rooms?" Astlyr a dressed Morrigan with as much courtesy as she could muster.

"If I must," Morrigan said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Alright," Astlyr nodded. "I'll ensure that the guards are respectful of your possessions.

"How kind," Morrigan smirked.

"If she does have the idol," Cassandra pointed out, "it is unlikely that she would hide it in her rooms."

Astlyr agreed with a sigh, "I know, but we should search anyhow, for thoroughness."

"Why are we so concerned about the loss of this thing anyhow?" Cullen questioned.

"It is a magical artifact that can grant the user great power by manipulating Fade spirits," Morrgain explained as though she thought Cullen a dullard. "It would be a very poor thing indeed if it should fall into the wrong hands."

"And which hands are those?" Cullen raised an eyebrow. He had stopped his pacing at last and stood, resting his hands on the pommel of his sword in a posture Astlyr knew well.

"I can think of at least one person you might not wish to have access to it," Morrigan said.

Astlyr wondered how the woman had heard of the Solas situation in the Emerald Graves, but she supposed the mage kept her ear to the ground. And when the Inquisitor and her party came back to Skyhold half dead, Morrigan would have been most eager to uncover how and why. Yet she did seem to have a better understanding than Astlyr might have guessed, and she felt her skin prickle. She narrowed her eyes, but let it pass for the moment. "Indeed," she said instead, folding her arms. "This is why I wanted to speak to you, guardswoman," she addressed Jones, who had been standing to one side looking uncertain as to why she had been summoned at all.

"Ma'am?" she asked, lifting her eyes with a wide innocence that was somehow refreshing.

"You told me that while you were giving the elf, Celwydd, a tour of Skyhold he managed to give you the slip while you were in the mage tower?"

"Oh Maker's balls," moaned Cullen, running a hand frustratedly through his hair.

"Y'yes ma'am," Jones shot the military commander, her commander, a sidelong and very uneasy glance.

"How long, exactly did you lose him for? Don't be afraid to answer honestly.," Astlyr used the gentlest tone she could muster. She really did like the guardswoman and didn't want to frighten her so badly.

"I can make her forget the fear," Cole offered. Jones looked at him uncertainly, but he rested a slender hand on her shoulder. "Forget," he whispered. She straightened, her eyes suddenly confident and trusting.

Josie made a startled sound, "what did you do? Did you change her?"

Jones answered, shaking her head and looking slightly impressed, "Phew. That's quite a thing! No, he didn't change me. He just...I don't know what he did, but it certainly helped," he tilted her chin up and looked Astlyr directly in the face with complete confidence. "We only thought him lost for a few minutes, but in truth none of us were keeping close track of the time. It may have been more like twenty."

Astlyr nodded, "thank you, Jones. Your help is appreciated."

"Glad I could help, ma'am. I'm sorry we lost him in the first place. I hope I can help again in finding this idol thingy."

Astlyr stifled a chuckle at the woman's rough and comfortable speech. "We'll let you know, Jones."

The guard made a quick bow then turned smartly and strode from the room. "And thank you, Morrigan. You may also go about your business for the day," Astlyr said to the mage.

"Oh, you are too kind." Morrigan turned and moved gracefully from the room. Cole darted out of her way as though afraid she might strike him.

Astlyr turned back to her people, the smile that had crossed her face fled it again when she saw their dire expressions. "We have no way of knowing who took the idol, or what they intend, but I think we can all agree we need better security on the artifacts room in the tower."

"That is something we can be certain of," Cullen mumbled, looked tense and frustrated.

"There's something else I wanted to talk to you about," Astlyr said. She shot a glance at Cole. It had not been her intention to have him present for the Morrigan discussion. He met her eyes and she gave him a thin smile. "It's alright, Cole. Just don't spread this information around, alright."

"I am good at keeping secrets," the boy said, sitting down in one of Josie's chairs and tucking up his legs.

"Except when you fish in people's minds and tell everyone their pain," Cassandra pointed out, not unkindly, but with a stern edge to her voice.

"That only means he would find out what we talked about anyway," Astlyr pointed out, "as I'm certain we'll all be anxious about it."

"Oh fine," Cullen grumbled. He was obviously in a foul mood already and eager to just get on with the conversation.

Astlyr took as deep and cleansing a breath as she could muster and told them all what Fen'Harel had expressed to her. The concern over Morrigan and Mythal, and whatever connection they might share. By the end her advisers all looked exceedingly glum. Cole watched them from his chair as though he desperately wanted to help them forget the entire situation, but knowing that would be unhelpful in the long run. "Well?" Astlyr said, looking from face to face hopefully.

"We have no idea how connected she is to this elven goddess," Josephine mused, "but Cole seemed to sense that she does hear voices because of it."

"We've heard her make mention and use of it before," Cullen agreed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "When we were looking for Coryphius she was able to help us with the knowledge she had gathered from the well."

"So we are just accepting that the elven gods are real then?" Cassandra asked, dark eyes hooded as she leaned against the desk, seemingly giving Josie's carpet a thorough study.

"We have to believe something large and powerful is real. We can debate actual godhood all day, but something very old is definitely awake and wandering around. Possibly even in our own halls. We can only hope it doesn't intend us harm. Whatever these beings are."

"One did try to murder you," Cullen pointed out.

"So we can infer that they will try to kill us if we are in their proximity," Astlyr almost chuckled. Cullen gave her a stern look. It was clear that he did not find his friends' near death experience at all amusing.

"What do we do about Morrigan?" Cassandra asked. "Tell her to leave Skyhold? Make her stay so we can keep an eye on her?"

Astlyr pondered for a long moment, watching the flames gutter in the ornate fireplace. She was relieved when Josephine spoke first. "I suggest we keep her here, and keep as many of our suspicions of her to ourselves as possible. However, she should be closely monitored. Perhaps by Cole, at all times. Lelianna took many of her best people with her when she left to become Divine, but we still have a spymaster and he may be able to advise us and give us personnel to monitor her."

"Alright," I suppose that is a better plan than nothing at all," Astlyr shrugged. Then she realized that a shrug was probably not the best indication of her leadership ability. She squared her shoulders, preparing to give a more leaderly response, but her people were already moving off. Josephine was arranging papers on her desk and Cullen was walking with Cassandra out of the room.

She glanced at Cole, still sitting in the chair, watching the fire with an odd sort of fascination. She put a hand on his narrow shoulder and it took him a moment to look up at her. When he did there was a certain fondness in his eyes she wasn't used to from him. Normally he was distant a detached, but in that moment, with the firelight giving his pale face a strangely ruddy glow, he looked at her as though he was pleased that she was standing beside him. Then a tense expression clouded his features and he teleported away. She was left with her hand hovering where his shoulder had been, tingling with a cold waft of air from his departure.

Astlyr said her goodbyes to Josephine and left the room herself. Her mind was too busy to even think about what the queen's knights might have wanted. She would save that subject for tomorrow. She wondered if she should track Cole down, or if he was already getting to work spying on Morrgian's thoughts. She shuddered. She honestly hated doing that to someone. Both to Morrigan and to Cole. She felt as though she was setting Cole on the mage as though he was a dog and she a criminal. This was all going so poorly, she thought. Weren't things supposed to be easier during peacetime? Then again, perhaps this wasn't peace time after all. She rubbed her stiff leg. She knew she should probably visit Fen'Harel. She had more questions for him, but she was too mentally worn down by her day. Long fingers of red sunset light splashed through the high windows behind the Inquisitor's Throne in the main hall. Washing the room with a bloody sheen. She decided to find Varric and talk him into a few drinks and a good, one on one game of Wicked Grace.

****This has been Astlyr's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day! Hopefully things will get better? You can find out right now because, as I said, you get ANOTHER whole chapter today! Aaaaaaaaw yis!


	12. Chapter 12

**Part 12**

**SkyHold**

"I suppose it really was for the best. He and I have been drifting apart for a while," Astlyr sighed, letting her shoulders slump.

She was seated across from Dorian in a library alcove. The two were enjoying a quiet breakfast and trying to keep the subjects of conversation light. Astlyr wasn't certain if yesterday's breakup with Iron Bull counted as 'light', but she didn't shy from the subject when her mage friend had asked. He had seen Iron Bull in the infirmary when he went to have his bandages changed and said that the big qunari had been looking rather glum. Astlyr took some solace in this, though if she was honest, she was not tremendously broken up over the loss. It still hurt, like a splinter, stinging every now and again to remind her it was still there, under her skin.

"You told me you'd never been in love," Dorian said, taking a bite of a warm piece of oatbread slathered in honey.

"Maker, Dorian, I thought we were keeping the subject light," she reached with her foot and tapped his.

"M'gel, we almost saw the end of the world. This is as light as it gets," he smirked, wiping honey from his mustache with a delicate motion. When Dorian was acting refined Astlyr often felt like she had just tumbled out of a pig sty. She absently dusted the front of her shirt, which was covered in crumbs, while his robes were immaculate.

"Alright, so love then. You've never been either," she pointed out, smirking.

"In my defense I had thought I was a few times. Infatuations when I was young. A handsome serving lad or two. Dalliance behind the garden shed. Very seedy. Just the sort of thing to drive my father insane," he grinned, his eyes sparkling.

"Did you do it to drive your father insane?" Astlyr questioned, selecting another pastry from the basket she had brought up from the kitchen. She passed one to her friend, as she knew it hurt him to bend down. He was not fully recovered from his injuries either.

"Well, that and companionship. You have no idea how empty and lonesome one of those big Tevinter houses can get."

"I suppose not," Astlyr said, thinking of the small, cozy cottage where she had grown up.

"Go one then," Dorian was giving her a wolfish grin, "your seediest experience. Put me to shame!"

"You have an odd notion of my life before I came here," Astlyr said, eyebrow raised.

"I know you've had a few," he pressed, still grinning like a mad cat.

"Alright, fine," she cast her eyes upward in thought. "While I was working as a mercenary there was this dwarf who fancied himself a Casanova."

"Intriguing," Dorian leaned forward slightly, resting chin on hands.

"He decided to set his sights on me. He'd never been with a qunari before."

"Did he attempt to woo you?" Dorian raised pressed, impishly.

"Hah!" Astlyr's laugh was so loud that several other people studying nearby looked up and glared. Then they realized who she was and they hurriedly dipped their heads back over their books. "He walked right up to me and asked, ' hey Adaar, wanna shag?'"

It was Dorian's turn for a laugh of inappropriate volume. "And your reply?"

"Alright," she quoted, her eyes watering with mirth as they both hooted with laughter.

"Oh Maker, ouch," Dorian grimaced holding his ribs. "Don't make me laugh so hard!"

"I'm sorry," she grinned, holding her own sides.

"No, you are not," the mage chortled, massaging his side ruefully, "but I did ask."

"You're right. You brought this on yourself," she chuckled, bumping his foot again with hers. Her legs were long enough to easily span the space between their chairs for such a gesture. "Do you have your eyes on anyone here at Skyhold?" she asked her friend, refreshing the milk in both their glasses from a pitcher.

Dorian considered for a long moment. "Not for true love, if that's what you're asking," he smirked.

"For a seedy dalliance then?' she asked.

"That new templar fellow seems nice enough," Dorian said, his tone slightly softer, with a note of seriousness.

"The one that came in yesterday?" Astlyr questioned, "I didn't know you'd met him."

"I happened to be getting my bandages changed when he was brought to the infirmary, and let me tell you, by the way he was admiring my well sculpted bare chest, he knows a man of breeding when he sees one."

"You caught him staring?" Astlyr snickered.

"I did," Dorian puffed himself up a bit, then winced, slouching back down to a more comfortable position.

"Well, I can tell you that man must be the Maker's own saint to handle the mages he came in with," Astlyr said.

"Troublesome were they?"

"I'd have gone crazy trying to lead them to Skyhold. Did you get a chance to speak with your admirer?"

"A bit. I chatted to him while they finished up my bandages, and I stayed as they fixed him up. Mostly he was exhausted, however, and needed sleep, poor lad." Dorian smiled. "His name is Titus and he's from the Markham circle. Nasty business what happened there, by the sound of it."

"Do you suppose that happened a lot?" Astlyr questioned. "The mages who didn't want the rebellion to succeed turning on their fellows?"

"I imagine it did," Dorian nodded a little sadly.

Astlyr met her friend's eyes, "I know the rebellion was already well on its way to freeing the mages and disbanding the circles, and I was only the final nail in the coffin, but...do you think I made the right choice?"

"I'm hardly the person to ask," Dorian shrugged. "In Tevinter we don't have circles like you do. I know how Madame Vivienne feels about it."

"She was never exactly pleased about it," Astlyr said with a wry half smile. "I don't know if she would have turned on her fellow circle mages, given the chance."

"I can't see her doing that," Dorian said, settling back in his chair. "Too messy."

"I suppose," Astlyr chuckled dryly.

"Inquisitor, here you are," Josephine walked up to them, writing board clasped in her hands, all business. "I had a few things I needed to discuss with you."

Astlyr gestured to a pile of pillows beside the window in the library nook, "you're welcome to join us. We're having breakfast, have you eaten?"

"Er...no, but-" Josie looked uncomfortable, glancing from the qunari to the mage and back.

"Oh stop torturing the poor dear," Dorian said, rising slowly from his chair. "Here, take mine."

"Sit," Astlyr commanded her friend. "If you try to sit down on those pillows you'll never be able to get back up again." The qunari stood, gesturing that the diplomat should take her chair. "I trust you don't have anything to report that Dorian can't hear?"

The scholarly woman considered for a moment, then smiled, shaking her head. She gingerly sat down in Astlyr's abandoned chair. "No, I do not believe so. I imagine the inner circle will all be informed eventually. I wanted to come to you first, of course, as at least one of these matters pertains to you personally."

"Alright," Astlyr held the jug of milk up to Dorian who chilled it with an ice spell before Astlyr poured some into a cup for Josie. "What's going on in that big, wide world that pertains to me?" she asked, though she suspected she knew. Those two knights from the queen were still hanging around like a bad cold you couldn't seem to get out of your system.

"Well, the first matter is more broad," Josephine explained, scanning her papers intently. "I have received reports that several major slave markets in Tevinter have been raided. These raids have resulted in the freeing of hundreds of slaves, as well as a large loss of life on the part of slavers, guards and auction attendees."

"Hundreds of slaves freed?" Astlyr raised an eyebrow. "Elvish slaves?"

"A majority were, I imagine," Dorian answered. "We do keep human slaves in Tevinter, but usually its elves. Smaller. Easier to control."

"Charming," Josephine muttered.

"I never said I was in favor," Dorian put in quickly. "I was raised primarily by a slave woman, and after knowing her, I would never think imposing slavery on another was a good idea."

Astlry reached over and gave Dorian's knee a squeeze, "I know. Don't worry. I never figured you for the slave owning type."

"I really don't fit in Tevinter at all," he mused, giving her a sad smile.

Astlyr turned back to Josephine, "is Tevinter requesting aid from the Inquisition?"

Dorian made a sound that was half laugh half snort, "Not likely."

"No, they are not," Josephine affirmed. "They wish to keep the matter internal. We have no evidence, other than the attacks involved freeing a large number of elves, that this had anything to do with the movements of these 'eleven gods', but our spies thought it worthy of our attention none the less."

"They were right to bring it up," Astlyr nodded. "We should keep an eye out for any odd behavior from our nearby Dalish tribes as well. And let's continue to get updates on Tevinter slave issues. I'd like to see if this progresses."

"Of course," Josephine made several notes with quick motions, the feather plume of her pen flouncing back and forth.

"Well, that was easy. I think I like being the Inquisitor today," Astlyr grinned at her friends. "Alright, Josie, hit me with the other subject that needed my attention."

"Now we must discuss the information that those knights from the queen wished to impart," the diplomat said, and she selected several papers from her stack. A few of the papers were small, curled slips having clearly been tied to the legs of messenger birds. These kept trying to roll away and Dorian finally offered to hold a few between bouts of chuckling.

Astlyr slouched on the pillows, feeling a creeping annoyance at the remembrance of the self important envoy. Still, she knew that Josie would have thoroughly vetted their tidings and brought only what mattered to her leader. She also felt a spike of curiosity in her mind. Previously it seemed that the royal couple had little care for what they did at Skyhold, so long as the rifts got closed and threats got dealt with. "Am I in trouble?" Astlyr asked.

Josephine smiled, "not exactly. The queen wishes to gift you with an arling. Or rather, she means to make Skyhold and the surrounding area a new arling and you're to rule it, as arlessa and Inquisitor."

Dorian choked on his milk. Astlyr laughed too loudly again and several people stood up and left with annoyed muttering. "Arlessa Astlyr Adaar?" Dorian sputtered, wiping milk from his chin.

"Cole could appreciate the alliteration," Astlyr pointed out, dabbing a tear of laughter from her eye with her knuckle. "Seriously, Josie. She really wants to do that?"

"Of course," Josephine, for her part, was looking confused and a little annoyed that her news was met with such amusement. "I have also had word from the Divine Victoria," she pressed on.

"Oh, Lelianna, what does she have to say," Astlyr tried to straighten her face, to little avail.

"She got word of the queens plans. I'm not certain how, but I suspect her network of spies is as active as ever," Josephine explained, she unrolled one of the tiny bits of parchment. "She informs us that the queen intended to merely make you a bann, but that would place you under the jurisdiction of the Arl of Redcliff."

"Wait, this isn't a joke? The queen really wants to slap a title on me? Inquisitor and resident qunari badass isn't enough for her?"

"Seemingly not," Josie took Astlyr's glibness in stride. She had plenty of experience dealing with it. "Lelianna convinced the queen to move the rank up to arl, and to declare the area around Skyhold a new arling."

"Won't that rub a few people the wrong way?" Astlyr raised an eyebrow. "I'm not much for this politics business, but don't people _live_ here in the Frostbacks, and might they mind if I am suddenly arling it over them?" Dorian made another choking laugh at her use of arling as a verb. She shot him an appreciative glance.

Josie looked as though she was regretting allowing the mage to stay and listen to their conversation. She aimed a glare at him, then doggedly continued. "The native people are called the Avvar. You met a few of them, I believe. Very tribal. One of them threw a goat at our walls."

"I remember him!" Astlyr sat up slightly as the memory came to her. "Decent man, when he wasn't hurling livestock. As I recall I send him to fight Tevinter."

"Indeed," Josephine nodded, marking something with her pen. "At the present time, we at Skyhold have an army sufficient to quash any rumblings from the Avvar tribes on the mountain. And I suspect your rule as arlessa will not be terribly strict. I doubt many of them will notice the difference."

"I don't want to quash anyone," Astlyr said, starting to feel annoyed. "Why is Queen Anora doing this? What's her end game?"

"Control, I expect," Dorian supplied. "If she gives you a proper title, then you fall under her rule and she can have some say in what you do."

"I also suspect it has something to do with keeping Skyhold in Ferelden control in the future," Josephine added, pen poised mid scribble. "I imagine she does not expect you to produce an heir."

"Well that's presumptuous," Dorian scoffed.

"I suppose it makes sense," Astlyr sighed. "I've only met one qunari I wasn't related to, and I just broke it off with him, though the queen could hardly know that." If she was honest, she had no idea if she could breed with other species. Both her patents had been of the qunari race, so she had always assumed she could only reproduce with one of her own kind.

"You and Iron Bull?" Josie looked up, her liquid brown eyes suddenly filled with sympathy.

"In this instance, I'd rather we go back to talking about politics," Astlyr said, and her expression must have been severe enough to coax the diplomat back from the relationship conversation precipice.

"Right," Josephine wrinkled her delicate nose, as though still baffled by the news of her leader's recent breakup. "Erm..." she seemed to have lost her thread and she glanced down at her notes. Astlyr idly wondered if the woman kept a transcript of every conversation she she heard. Perhaps later Astlyr would convince Cole to borrow Josie's writing board. "Yes. An heir. She suspects you are unlikely to produce an heir. If you remain merely an inquisitor, you may choose your successor, if there is a need for one. How long do qunari live?"

"I'm not sure," Astlyr admitted. "My parents both died of an illness."

Josephine clucked her tongue in brief sympathy for Astlyr deceased family, then continued, "if you were an arl, then things get muddy. The queen could have a great deal of say in who your successor might be."

"Right," Astlyr rubbed the back of her neck. "So...is this arl thing something we want?"

"Well," Josephine said, considering. "The Inquisition was born of war, and while we are currently offering a service to the people in the area, it is uncertain how much longer such a military installment will be necessary."

"But I could go back to being a nobody after this?" Astlyr questioned, suddenly struck with a tempting thought. "I could go back to my old life?"

"You, M'gel, will never be a nobody again," Dorian assured her, and there was such sincerity in his voice that Astlyr felt her heart tug.

"I do not know what is in store for the Inquisition," Josephine met Astlyr's eyes. "The stability of a title may grant us the ability to remain, and to continue to do good for the people here. Not to mention keep control over a very tactically placed military installment, should Orlais ever attempt to move eastward."

"True," Astlyr pondered, casting her eyes towards the ceiling. She shook her head as though trying to shake off a pesky fly, "this is too strange. Can you see me as an arlessa? Some stuffy, overdressed lady? I don't think so, Josie."

Dorian sat forward, a clever look flashing in his eyes. "Reply to the queen. Tell her Astlyr won't take anything less than the title of Teyrn."

"The female version is Teyrna," Josie corrected him. She was smiling broadly and already writing.

"Wait, wait, what is going on?" Astlyr raised her hands.

"You're demanding the highest state of lord-hood besides declaring yourself queen," Dorian smirked. "It'll rankle the Anora to no end. If she does give it to you, which she won't, you'll have a lot more control and she'll have less say in what you do, and even whom you chose as your successor."

"But she won't give it to me," Astlyr stated rather than asked.

"It is highly unlikely," Josephine reassured her.

"Well, alright then," Astlyr shrugged, feeling baffled, but somehow accomplished. "Maybe I'm not so bad at these politics after all. If this did work I could go from peasant to high ranking lady in no time," she smirked.

"You stopped being a peasant the day you hoisted that cracking great sword over your head in front of everyone in Skyhold," Dorian pointed out. "You remember. They all cheered. You got your very first title, that of Inquisitor; and the rest is history."

"Really strange history," Astlyr chuckled. "Did you need me for anything more Josie?"

"No," the woman shook her dark curls, still grinning. Adorable dimples formed on her cheeks when she smiled. "I shall inform Sers Roderkick and Oswyn of your decision and send them on their way."

"Alright then, you two. I best be off. I have important Inquisitor tasks to perform." Astlyr rose, straightening her tunic as though it were a uniform.

"Fixing privies?" Dorian asked, reaching for a nearby book.

"People need privies," she shrugged expressively. "Thanks for the talk, Dorian," she said, resting a hand on his shoulder.

He covered her hand with his and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze, "any time you need to talk to someone about your past exploits, I'm your man."

Josephine looked up for a moment, then shook her head and went back to her work without comment. Astlyr turned to her diplomat friend, "always a pleasure, Josie. Keep me apprized of my lordly status."

Josephine looked ready to correct Astlyr on her use of the term 'lord', but seemingly again decided it was not worth the trouble. She smiled brightly instead, "I will."

Astlyr made her way down from the library and out into the open, snowy courtyard of Skyhold. The snow was mostly trodden down and well shoveled. Sand and straw had been spread to keep traction in icy places. Astlyr looked her fortress over with a pleased expression. It felt like the place was really coming together at last. What a pity it waited until the war was over to do it. Above her the Inquisition banners flapped in the cold winter breeze, from which she was protected by the high stones of her home.

Nearby she could hear the horses nattering to one another in their rumbling horse speech. She pondered stopping to visit Smoke and give him some attention, but she was expected to meet the building and repair team soon, so she decided to make her way towards the forge. Then she spotted him. A lonesome, slender figure with an overlarge hat. Cole's head was tipped back, his eyes closed. He was standing near an internal wall and swaying slowly.

She walked over to her friend, watching him for a long moment. He didn't seem to be in distress, but she had never seen him look quite this way before. "Are you alright?" she finally asked, keeping her voice soft.

The spirit boy blinked his pale eyes open, turning his baleful glance to her. Even though she was used to Cole's constant look of profound sadness, it still sometimes caught her by surprise. She bit back a worried comment, instead letting him answer her. "I am listening to Morrigan," he said, shaking his blond hair down over his eyes, his hat flopping.

"Anything new?" she asked, hands on her hips. She stared at the wall, which she guessed the mage must be on the other side of, as if she might see through it if she tried hard enough.

"It's still crowded," Cole admitted. "I can catch bits. Fleeting like footprints in the falling snow. Yellow eyes that see what I cannot see in her. I want to go nearer, creep closer in her mind, but the other voices shut me out. I am unwelcome."

"So nothing new then?" Astlyr felt her lips twitch in a smile.

"No," Cole answered, clearly sensing she thought his answer somehow humorous, though he did not understand why. "I will keep trying."

"Is it hard on you?" Astlyr questioned. "To have to focus on one person's pain?"

"I take breaks," the boy admitted, looking down at his pale hands. They looked so cold, ungloved as they were. Astlyr had to remind herself again that he did not feel the temperature. She resisted the urge to try to warm them. He tilted his head to the side, watching her suddenly. "You are sad," he pointed out.

"I expect I am. Most people are sad at least some of the time." She shrugged.

"I thought he loved me. Thought I was finally wanted, but it wasn't true. Cut adrift again, like always. I am an amusement, not a person. I please them and then they grow weary of me. I miss the way he would make me feel. How she would run his tongue-"

"Whoa, Cole!" Astlyr stopped him, clamping her hand over his mouth, "sweet heart, no! I have told you about describing people's sex lives out loud. People...really don't like it." she took her hand away and he looked contrite.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright," she said unable to keep her lips from twitching in a thin smile. "I imagine you know that Iron Bull and I are no longer together."

"You were growing apart from him," Cole said, his tone as level as ever. "You are sad that you and he do not mean the same as you did before. He still loves you, but not in the way you want to be loved."

"That's true," she admitted, wondering if she should leave this conversation before it strayed back into embarrassing territory. Her time with Iron Bull had been...intense and highly sexual.

"You want someone who loves your mind," Cole pointed out.

"I suppose I do," she gave him a wan look. "I have no idea who that person is. I hope I find him before I get too old and look even more terrifying than I already do." she chuckled.

"Cullen wants to kiss you."

"What?" she spluttered out the word and a passing workman looked up. She gave him a glare and he hurried on his way, head down.

"Cullen wants to kiss you," Cole repeated as though she had not heard him. "But he is afraid. He doesn't usually like women who are taller than him. You intimidate him."

"Oh really?" she raised an eyebrow.

"I don't understand why people care so much about height," Cole admitted, looking at her with his pale eyes. He could look so young some times, she thought. "Varric is the shortest of all, and everyone likes him."

"This is true," Astlyr nodded.

"I like that you're tall," the boy pressed on, and was it her imagination or did he look a bit less depressed? "It means you're strong. Strong arms fold around me, carry me. Make the pain less. She guides, guards, grows in greatness. We need s strong leader, they said, and then she was there and she was better than what they wanted."

She felt herself blush at the praise. "I suppose that is also true. Thank you for the information, Cole. And if Cullen wants to kiss me, well he can just get over himself first," she smirked.

Cole seemed confused by this statement. "I could make him forget that he cares about height," he said, though his tone was tentative, as though he knew the answer he would receive.

"No, Cole. He needs to come around to it himself, if he ever does."

"You like him too," Cole pointed out, earnestly.

"I do," she nodded, pondering her interactions with the human. "He's a good warrior with a brilliant military mind."

"And he's kind."

"Kind?"

"You like that's he's kind. It matters to you because you like people. Cassandra thinks you're too inclined to like people. You wish Cullen would show his more," Cole said, picking some dirt from under a finger nail absentmindedly.

"How is it you know my mind better than I know it myself?" she asked, her eyes wrinkling at the corners as she smiled fondly down at the boy.

"Most people don't know their own minds. That's why I help," he answered. "I like that kind of helping best. Help people to see what they didn't know they knew."

"I think you're at your best when you help like that," Astlyr confirmed, smiling. Then she looked back at the wall. "Are you going to keep listening to Morrigan?"

"No," Cole shook his head. "I have been listening all morning. I am going to go speak with Fen'Harel for a while."

"Fen," she reminded the spirit. "Call him Fen."

"Yes," Cole nodded, looking distant. "I need to discuss...something with Fen."

"Alright," Astlyr tilted her head. "You'd know, wouldn't you, if he was trying to take control of you, or something sinister?"

"Of course," Cole answered, his hand straying to touch the amulet he wore. "I go to him because he was Solas, and Solas was my friend. He was helping me understand myself. I still don't understand completely, so I want to see him again, and talk with him."

Astlyr had a thought, "When Solas left without saying goodbye, were you afraid, Cole? Afraid that you would never completely understand yourself?"

His shoulders stiffened, "My pain doesn't matter."

"Of course it does," Astlyr said, gently, reaching out and touching his slim arm. It even felt like the arm of a teenage boy. Boney, with true muscle beginning to form. Would he remain like this forever? Never growing older? She suspected he would. She wondered what sort of man the original Cole would have become before he had been left to die in the dark.

"I was afraid," Cole admitted. "I thought of returning to the Fade, but I stayed. I stayed because I knew I was safe. Because I knew I had you."

It suddenly felt as though he had punched her in the sternum. So much trust all heaped on her. Most of the time she was able not to think about it. How much trust her men put in her. How little she felt she deserved it. She had literally been lucked into the position of Inquisitor. Stumbling in on a blood ritual where she was never even supposed to be. Because of a mark on her hand she was put in charge. Because of religious beliefs that she didn't even share, she was elevated in people's minds.

"Because of your actions, your friends follow you," Cole cut into her thoughts midstream as though he had been listening along. She supposed he had.

She closed her eyes, taking a moment to feel the winter sun on her face. Warm, even in the midst of all the snow. She breathed a few cleansing breaths, feeling the icy air fill her lungs. It was surprisingly refreshing. When he opened her eyes Cole was still standing before her, wringing his hands, as he sometimes did when he was agitated. "I'm sorry," he said, and he sounded it. "I can make you forget," he reached up towards her.

She caught his hand before it reached her, "no no, Cole. Thank you."

"I can make you forget just the feeling. Just the being overwhelmed," he offered again, though he did not try to free his hand from her grip.

She gave this some consideration. It would be nice to have this clawing anxiety out of her head before she went about her day. She knew from seeing Cole work that his magics could be very noninvasive when he wanted. He could merely tip a scale. Start someone down the path of healing. She met his gaze for a long moment, then nodded slowly. She wasn't certain if she had ever been 'helped' by Cole in this way before. Had he ever made her forget without her knowing? Before the two of them were close friends? Before she could always see him?

Her hand fell away from his, and his fingers found her jaw, resting there with the lightness of a morning breeze. "I will be gentle," he reassured her. There was a rush in her mind. A moment when all her thoughts became jumbled into a tight knot, then suddenly loosened into a thousand separate strands again. He took his hand away, giving her a wan smile. "I didn't take much," he reassured her. "Just enough to help you."

If she was honest she didn't feel all that different, but as she thought she knew that a certain, cloying stress was lifted from her. She still felt a bit uncertain about her worthiness and her people's loyalty, but it no longer weighed on her shoulders like a massive stone. She smiled at Cole. "Thank you. I wish I could make you feel better too."

"You do," he smiled back at her in the most genuine way he knew, which at best made him look like he wasn't about to burst into tears. "Now I must go. I have only a short time before I must listen to Morrigan again."

"Thank you, Cole," she said before he could teleport away.

"Thank you-" he said, in that earnestly genuine way he always had of thanking anyone. As if she had just saved his life, "for letting me help." Then he was gone, leaving behind only a puff of cool air and his memory.

Astlyr smiled and shook her head, beginning her walk toward the forge once again, certain that her building team had given her up and gone about their tasks without her. Instead she found them still gathered and speaking together in urgent voices. They looked up as she entered and hurriedly enfolded her into their conversation. "Inquisitor, good that you're herr! Rogers found something this morning, ma'am, that is quite alarming."

"Alarming how?" Astlyr asked, looking over the group trying to recall which one was Rogers. Finally a dwarf stepped forward. There were not many dwarves in Skyhold, but more had come when it was clear that there were jobs to be had. Especially surface dwarves, unwelcome in the subterranean city of Orzammar.

"Ma'am," the dwarf dipped his head in acknowledgment of being called upon by the inquisitor. "I was walking the walltops just this morning and I found that a section of the Northern wall is beginning to dip downwards. Now it is only a slight grade at the moment," he gestured for calm with his hands, though no one seemed inclined to panic. "I believe there may be a cave, or natural pocket, below that section of wall, which will eventually give way and cause the wall to fall into it...and subsequently off of it."

"Off of it?" Astlyr questioned, then she took a moment to visualize the north wall. Skyhold made an excellent military outpost because it perched atop an impassible cliff face on three sides. To siege the fortress an enemy would need the ability to fly, or he would have to come by way of Skyhold's southern main-gate. If the northern wall collapsed it would fall down, and down some more. Tumbling off of the mountain in a sheer drop, and likely further damaging the tenuous foundation of the fortress at the same time. "Well...shit," Astlyr muttered.

A young elven man spoke up, "If the wall were to collapse, it would likely take the guard tower with it as well at the very least. And perhaps a sizable chunk of the courtyard on that side."

"Maker's balls," Astlyr breathed. Some of the men chuckled. They liked it when she swore. It made her feel like one of them instead of an intimidating figurehead.

"We've still got time," Rogers the dwarf assured her. "We just need to get down there and find out exactly what sort of cave we're dealing with. Then we can decide what to do about the problem from there."

"Can we shore it up?" Astlyr questioned.

"Ma'am, I was born in Orzammar," Rogers gave her a sage look, folding his arms over his chest, and subsequently over his impressive beard, "and before I left I used to work with the repair and tunneling crews. I'll bet you surfacers thought we dwarves had stopped digging. Hah! For us, excavation is as natural as breathing."

"Get on with it!" someone called from the group. A laugh rippled through it and Rogers looked annoyed, but soldiered on.

"I know all about keeping tunnels and caves from collapsing, even if a darkspawn should take a fancy to having a raucous party down there." he wore a proud smile.

"Excellent. Glad we have you," Astlyr gave Rogers a resounding clap on his back, which almost toppled him completely. He gave her a hearty laugh, rubbing ruefully at his shoulder, "remind me never to make you angry ma'am. You happy is almost more than my poor old bones can bear."

"How do we get down to the cave?" asked one of the workmen, sounding uneasy. "Do we try to dig down from the inside?"

"Mayhap," Rogers said, scratching his bearded chin thoughtfully. "Now that I think on it, no one has ever seen the outside of that wall, have they? No one except the messenger birdies."

"So we climb down the wall to the cliff below and see what we can see?" Astlyr clarified, unable to keep the eagerness from her voice. She loved rock climbing, always had. She had no fear of heights and the thought of rappelling down to investigate a cave on a cliff-side sounded just like the sort of excitement she needed.

"You are right, indeed," said Rogers, grinning. Or at least she suspected he was. It was difficult to tell behind a mustache that would have made Dorian jealous.

"Gather the climbing gear and the necessary men we'll need," she said, grinning broadly herself. "We'll have this wall issue figured out in no time!"

****No lie, my favorite thing to write thus far has been Astlyr and Dorian bantering. Every strong leader needs a sassy gay friend! These two together, Maker help us! Sass levels are reaching new heights! Aaaaand what about this Cullen thing? Dun dun duuuuuuun! When I'm not tweaking the lore I am messing with LI's. I honestly meant to have her stick with Iron Bull, but man, she just doesn't fit with him. Even while I was playing the game they only ever seemed like an okay couple. Never a forever sort of thing.

What do you guys think? As always, feel free to share your thoughts :) I love hearing from you!  
>Next chapter: 226/15****


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